Shurara Corps Future
by PekoponianDani
Summary: For lack of a better title. Malicious, sadistic, evil. Shurara Corps are discovered by Pekoponjin scientists, interrogation & torture ensues. Short warning at beginning, ending is in consideration.
1. Prologue

_**....**_

_**If you want a happy story, with a happy ending, a purpose, and a tale of good fortune that ends with deep explanation and redemption**_

_**....**_

_**Turn back now.**_

_**You've been forewarned,**_

_**Continue if you dare.**_

_**Thank you.**_


	2. Team Enigmatic?

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* * *

...Ignore that up there O_o... Nooo idea how, but it's keeping the actual fanfic from being a blubbery, symbol-filled, incoherent mess... :D

Anyways, this is just the first chapter, opening with the Enigmatic Graffiti Keronian and the Enigmatic Puppet-Using Keronian.

Also known as "Master Painter Putata" and "Super Marionette Mekeke".

Please enjoy~

* * *

_Blood, guts, hate and sorrow._

_Veins, arteries, bones and marrow._

_Torture, torment, agony and pain._

_Shackle, latch, clasp and chain._

_Hold me tight to your chest, my dear,_

_Wipe away my tears and fear__..._

_Hold me near your heart my friend,_

_Your courage and love, to me lend__..._

_Can you save me from this hell__..._

_What, I fear__...__ I hear_...

_ a bell._

The single working eye of our first Keronjin slipped open, fluttering a few times before shutting tightly against the blinding light that poured into his and his partner's shared room. Their room... composed of ten pairs of shackles hanging at equal heights all around the room, all having their own ominous, foreboding aura to them.

Their room composed of black cement and the everlasting, quiet drip of water from one of the stalactites hanging dreadfully above them, not looking secure at all, almost ready to drop and impale them at any point it wished.

Their room, harboring a single seven-foot tall metal door with a single opening about two inches tall at the bottom, a barred window that could be shut from the outside, and no hinges or doorknobs or handles on this side.

Their cell.

Every day they slept, as well as they could, in an attempt to escape their new life styles as well as they could. They always slept against one another, since no bed was supplied and since the room was always almost lethally cold. If they stayed in the rooms any longer than they did now, they would surely die.

The smaller one, now broken but not without hope, lay curled against the other, his one eye open now and staring at the door, now open, the one form standing in the centre one he was familiar with.

Next to him, his partner (old partner) shifted, putting an arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer. It was a futile attempt at such small rebellion; he would go, whether his partner... his friend wanted them to take him or not.

The man before them stood approximate six feet, ten inches, according to the Pekoponjin's; he wore the same clothes as he usually did, a black suit with gloves, a belt, the glasses he needed to see, and his dark hair pulled back with some sort of gel or other. In the belt, they knew, this monster disguised as a Pekoponjin had dozens, if not hundreds, of ways to hurt them, and make them cry, and scream, and break down, and succumb, and...

"Come on then."

They both winced at his voice and the younger one (if only by months, by most a year or two) stood shakily, his legs not quite steady from the day prior. Little marks criss-crossed the teal skin under his brown smock, his golden eyes averted to the ground. His friend watched him with a pained sort of hurt, hating to see the other like this.

He stumbled towards the door, almost drunkenly, and stopped a few feet from the man, his legs still trembling just slightly, his hands finding his arms and holding them tightly, shivering in the cold and keeping his single golden eye on the ground; the other was hidden by the mask that pulled over his head, and the square eye-patch that sported an "X" across the front. The mask (a match to his smock) also boasted a pair of dog-like ears, and a circle and medical cross on the front; also appearing on the chest of his smock.

"Well, 344? Ready to try this again...?"

The experiment swallowed thickly, eyes (eye) never rising from the ground.

"Mekeke."

They both looked up, the one being addressed more startled and, by most, horrified, by his friend's angry correction.

The painter was standing now, his entire body trembling with shivers, some of the scars sill fresh, but the defiance and hate in his eyes wasn't even masked.

"What was that...?"

A flash of uncertainty made its way across Mekeke's friend's face before he smiled his teasing, life's-good-no-matter-what-you-try-and-say smile.

"His name's Mekeke."

Two dark forms slipped into the room, walking over slowly and deafeningly silently to stand over the yellow and splash-coloured Keronjin. He looked up at them, the same smile in place, though Mekeke, and Mekeke alone, could pick out the unease and twinge of fear in his expression. They'd been working together for such a long time¼ been friends ever since they met... Mekeke knew him better than anybody.

And so he feared for him.

"No!" he cried and turned back to the man in the suit, who averted his eyes down to the smocked form, the indifferent cruelty there making him cringe a bit from the stare but meeting it. "Please... don't.... don't hurt him."

"Obedience is compulsory here, 344. You even know that, don't you?" He winced a bit and looked down, nodding weakly. Oh, he knew... Sure as hell he knew. "Then why would you speak against us?"

"He's... my friend," Mekeke mumbled, unable to keep the thickness from his voice. The man in the suit stared at him for a moment longer before slipping out of the special leashes from his belt and attaching it to the electrode-bracelet on Mekeke's wrist, making him wince before he was jerked forward, stumbling to catch his balance.

"Well?" the man in the suit demanded to the two in the room, standing over the staring Keronjin.

"Yes sir," they replied, and Mekeke saw one slam his foot into his partner's chest, knocking him against the wall and making him slump down, wincing in pain but somehow regaining that smile. A foot knocked him over and another was driven into his ribs before the door shut, the tears in his eyes blurring anymore he might have seen even if the door had remained open.

"Why do you do that?" Mekeke whispered, following the man in the suit, unable to do anything else with the electrodes attached to his wrist. No, not strapped, not belted, not buckled; _attached_. They'd literally sewn the electrode bracelet into his skin and attached it to the nerves for, 1) permanent residence, and 2) stronger affects.

"He needs to learn not to speak out of line," the man said darkly and Mekeke looked at the ground, the smallest of whimpers creeping up his throat. "You still have some obedience problems, 344..."

"I... I'm sorry...," Mekeke murmured, not wanting any harm to come to himself or his partner. _Putata__¼_ he thought, feeling a tear rise in his eye. Oh, why did it have to be Putata...

"Sir," the man corrected, and Mekeke winced, expecting a shock; it didn't come.

"S-sir," he said, his voice thick with fear and, almost invisible, resent. He hated this man more than he'd ever hated anything...

Except for that room. That room always made him feel like throwing up, and his face always flushed from shame and embarrassment when he was near it; the things that had happened in that room tainted his soul and his whole being, making him feel disgusting and wretched, always leaving with marks and blood and wounds and sometimes, enough pain to get him into the infirmary...

But most of the things that had happened here hadn't wounded him physically; they had wounded him mentally. This monster next to him truly was a demon in disguise; it was sadistic and, other than that and maybe a hint of malice, it was empty. Void of feeling...

It only felt that spark of happiness when others were in pain, and certain things just seemed to twist him the right way to make him feel like laughing.

Not that this corporation complained about it; he got them the information they needed, and they didn't care how he got it; so long as he kept his projects (captives, victims, _prey_) alive.

As they approached the door, the old-fashioned key came from the pocket and Mekeke swallowed thickly, watching it with a single, wide, frightful eye. Oh...

The man smiled, almost conversationally, and put the key into the lock, turning it and letting the tumblers unlock it. Looking down to Mekeke, he grinned at the Keronjin's grimace and in an almost soothing voice, noticing the terrified expression flit across the alien's face, he asked, "shall we go in...?"

* * *

Nurf nurf nurf...

And, to acknowlege a comment given to me by Lini Mogknight...

my apologies for not being able to post the first chapter yesterday. My mother had to go to the doctors for a chekup since she just got out of heart surgery, then she ended up going to the hospital for a test, and I was a little distracted and, I admit, I forgot to put the first actual _CHAPTER_ up. XD;

Anyways, it's the next day, so I hope you enjoy... Not much gore in this one :X Trying to keep it at least a wee safe... XD...

Hope yew enjoid~


	3. A Snowman and his Robot

Chapter 1; A Snowman and his Robot

Corny name, I know, but gimme a break.

* * *

A soft, tortured yawn escaped the ragged throat of a snowman-appearing Keronjin hanging from a pair of shackles attached to the cement wall above his head, his feet dangling a few feet above the ground, his wrists unprotected by the gloves on his hands and thus reduced to bleeding the little blood this Keronjin had to offer. Little scars reported where he'd previously been shackled in this form, similar scars on his helmet and blanket/scarf, his snow body not even spared from examination and markings.

He seemed unfazed by the scars and markings all over his body, or by the deep, stinging pain in his wrists. He merely hung there, trying hard not to move and cause himself more pain than he needed to without the damned scientists doing it for him; the last thing he needed was self-afflicted pain. The Pekoponjin in this business did that enough.

He sighed and lowered his head, his half-closed blue eyes trained on the ground. How long had he been left in this freezing room, the bite of the cold not even affecting his snow-bound body? Minutes, hours, days, maybe even weeks... Hell, months would surprise him, but not much.

Probably just a few days, he thought to himself, and found himself fighting back shouts of anger and rage at the stupid Pekoponjins that were assuredly watching him suffer. His stomach growled (not that anyone but him understood this) and he was thirsty, but if it became unbearable he merely licked a part of his shoulder. It was odd, but it worked It didn't hurt too badly, and it quenched the thirst. Now he leaned over a bit and licked his shoulder a few times free of snow, letting it melt in his mouth before swallowing it and wincing when it ran over his ragged throat.

"Wretched, underdeveloped, brainless, stupid, heartless, cold, sadistic bastards," he muttered, knowing full well he could whisper so he himself could barely hear, and they would have the technology to hear it like a pin dropping in a silent room. "I'll flurry this room so you can't see shit all, then what'll you do? You'll be helpless and stupid like nature intend—de... ded...." He gasped and hardly managed to choke out the last of the words when the shackles around his wrists started to rise, digging deeper into his skin and dragging him a foot higher before it stopped and abruptly released.

He'd already foreseen this, landing in a crouch with one of his still-shackled hands on the ground to break the fall, dragging in a sharp, somewhat thankful breath. Having your arms above your head made it a little heard to breathe...

Standing, the chains on the ground below him and rising to their pulleys or whatever in the wall, he waited expectantly for the door to slide open and for yet more tests to occur.

The door slipped open and light poured in, a trio of scientists walking in flanked by a pair of guards.

"Are you going to be hard with us again, 988?"

"Oh here we go," the snowman muttered, glaring at him. "_Yukiki_. My name is _Yukiki_. It isn't that hard, you know."

The two guards stepped forward, flanking him. He gave them angry, uneasy glares and looked back to the main scientist, a man he'd come very acquainted with over his time spent here. A man by the name of Dr. Hallorann, he had a tousle of sandy blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses, a white lab coat, a belt with wicked-looking tools on it, and cold blue eyes that matched his heartless stare.

The two scientists flanking him were also familiar, though less hated; Dr. Estell, the female Pekoponjin, had a similar lab coat though didn't sport the belt, and hand nice long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail as well as bright blue eyes that were a little dimmed by her work, and a clip board in her hands. She actually thought of Yukiki (and probably the other's she saw) as living beings, not just test subjects; so, her tests weren't so bad. She actually talked to him too, though he didn't talk much; they were Pekoponjin he hated them.

The third was a younger boy, maybe around Dr. Estell's age, by the name of Dr. Tenns. He had short brown hair, little glasses, and an almost boyish look to him. He had the lab jacket, a small clip board like Dr. Estell's, though he didn't look quite as important; nor was he. The boy was a trainee of some sort, while Dr. Estell was Dr. Hallorann's assistant.

The guards were unfamiliar to him; there were always new ones.

"Well, 988... _Yukiki_?" Almost tauntingly was his name pronounced. Yukiki wished he could freeze this bastard's brain right in his damn head, slowly, membrane by membrane

"You won't learn anything," Yukiki growled softly and abruptly, hard hands grabbed his arms and hoisted him into the air, dangling him helplessly in front of the scientists , his eyes narrowed hatefully. These hands knew how to break bones, how to make people talk, how to kill..

Worst of all, they knew how to make Yukiki immobile and completely vulnerable. A knock of the helmet or the melt of his snow and he was just a helmet again... and they knew it.

Damn them, they knew it...

"Well, we'll have to see about that," Dr. Hallorann said and turned briskly, leaving the room. Dr. Estell gave him a little look before turning and following, and Dr. Tenns followed almost fretfully of being left behind. The two guards holding Yukiki followed easily, making him rock a bit in their grip and glare ahead, fighting the urge to summon a wind storm and freeze the five bastards.

Of course, there were a few things that stopped him; one, he would get punished.

Severely...

Two, he would end up killing the only person in this damnable building that actually had a heard that wasn't dampened and black, Dr. Estell.

And three... they might punish someone else for his actions. Someone that actually meant something to him; someone that they _knew_ would make him obedient as, painfully, it had.

_Robobo,_ Yukiki thought and exhaled slowly, lowering his head limply and shutting his eyes. _Robobo... How the hell did I get so attached to you?... worthless hunk of metal..._

_Wa... tas-s-...se..._

Yukiki opened his eyes a bit, wincing at the weak sound of his apparent friends voice. The little chip that Robobo had installed into the helmet helped them have at least a little telepathic contact... but however the scientists here had taken him apart, they'd probably damaged it.

Or him, beyond the point of speaking...

"Deep in thought?" he heard a smooth voice inquire and he looked up, giving Dr. Estell a tired but irritated glare.

"Not much to think about," he replied dryly, turning his head away again.

"You don't need to be so down... Yukiki?" He didn't reply, just kept his eyes shut and glared at his eyelids. Or... whatever his equivalent was. He didn't even know.

"Hey," one of the guards said gruffly and gave him a shake, making his helmet totter dangerously before it righted itself. "Answer her."

"It's fine Ben," Dr. Estell soothed and Yukiki continued to ignore her little comments as they venture down the hall. The one chance he got a free will; he wasn't going to waste it.

"...Your friend is being reassembled," she finally inquired and, almost against his will, Yukiki looked up with bleary, almost hateful eyes that now had a little spark of relief in them. Rebellious as always, he didn't let it show much longer.

"So," he mumbled flatly, lowering his head again and shutting his eyes.

"I'm trying to arrange for a meet for you two."

"Meet...?" Now hope was tearing through his chest almost painfully like a forest fire.

"Yeah... Although, video and audio recordings for record will be required... Do you care?"

"Whatever," he muttered, though he was just a bit excited. He'd seen what they had done to Robobo; they'd forced him to watch. Whatever they had jolted him with, it had made him immobile and frighteningly vulnerable. Every part taken from his body had sent an agonizing pang of despair and grief through Yukiki's body, feeding his hate for the Pekoponjins, driving his wrath and vengeance.

When Robobo had finally been reduced to a pile of metal, like Yukiki had always teased him about being in the first place... only then did they take him away and lock him in his now single-occupant cell; a square cement room with ten pairs of shackles, stalagmites and stalactites, and a chill that had occasionally dampened Robobo's circuits and needed Yukiki to freeze so it wouldn't short circuit him.

How he missed the days when they had just sat there in each others company, just the simple reassurance of one another being enough to keep them going. To keep them fighting.

Of course, when they decided to try a "learning" course with the two of them in the same room... it hadn't turned out well.

Yukiki had raged when he saw the blank look in Robobo's eyes after they gave him that first jolt, and the agonized jerks of pain that they managed to put into his circuitry. He'd been painfully restrained, sharp, in-spiked cuffs around his wrists, sending constant waves of pain through his arms and making it hard to concentrate to launch an attack, and guns pointed at him at all times to stop him from helping his friend. He'd felt himself getting slowly angrier, more full of hate, until he was sure he'd melt.

He had refused to speak, only from the pleads that Robobo had given him the night prior not to speak; it didn't hurt as much as it always seemed, Robobo had said... Yukiki had been forced to give his word, and he'd kept it, painful second through painful second...

And then it had been his turn; Robobo had been horrified. When they strapped Yukiki to the table and then brought in a simple household candle, he'd struggled against his restraints weakly, still dazed from his own treatments.

But when Yukiki had started jerking around, his grip on the chains struggling to freeze them in an attempt to save himself, the special technology inside of them stopping his useless attempts... when he'd almost screamed in pain, instead coming out a cut-off cry of pain when they pushed the simple candle into his chest and lit it, letting it burn its own course down towards his body, the max sliding down and making him perspire weakly, melting ever so slightly around the hot candle and unable to really escape it, staring at it with resigned but pained, afraid eyes as he waited for it to start to burn him... and when it finally did, having to tear his eyes away from his melting chest and howl, once...

When Robobo heard him howl, he'd snapped; his entire body had jolted into power and his attack had managed to kill four scientists and half the guard in the room, around seven. He'd freed Yukiki, who was breathing and jerking wildly on the table, unable to free himself. He'd freed Yukiki, managed to run down the hall with him stumbling behind him weakly, covering the gaping hole in his chest, before the electrodes' on their wrists had send tormenting shocks through their bodies and made them scream in pain, collapsing to the ground in writhing, soon unconscious forms.

Robobo had been sent to be disassembled even before they were conscious, and had brought Yukiki to watch just to teach him what would happen if he tried to rebel.

But hearing that Robobo was being given a second chance....

"...when?" he asked finally and saw an encouraged smile form on Dr. Estell's expression.

"How is tomorrow?" she asked and he looked up, nodding, letting himself appear a bit grateful and relieved. If he trusted his emotions (his damn, betraying emotions) around anyone, it was Dr. Estell.

Aside from Robobo, of course...

* * *

Lini Mogknight. I, unfortunately, cannot respond to any of your reviews by any other means because you're either,

1) an Anon (Anonymous user) XD or

2) not posting your username

In any case, I would be able to respond directly to you only if you had an account and signed the reviews with it....

ANYWAYS.

Hope you enjoyed Yukiki's Emo Rollercoaster.

Now get off and go home.

:3


	4. A Ghosts Thoughts and a Brothers Grief

Yup. Another today.

If just to save my own ass from the rabid dutsbunnies.

Hope you enjoy Dokuku's emotional rollercoaster of doom. 3

* * *

Floating aimlessly through the walls of the lab, this empty Keronjin could see anything he wished without being stopped. Because the Pekoponjin couldn't capture him... he wasn't physical. He was made of gas, and he could phase through anything they tried; of course, they _were_ trying to make something for him... but he knew it wouldn't work; all the materials they had added proved that he could phase through.

He let his single blue eye watch the ground as he floated forward numbly, his one hand dangling below him weightlessly, his other arm ending in a scythe also held below his pale body.

"877, good afternoon," someone said and he looked down, slowly, his blue eye training on a scientist smiling faintly up at him. Dr. Tyrel, the ghost recalled emotionlessly, and floated down slowly until he was at the same height as him, hovering up and down slowly. "Anything interest you today?"

He shook his head slowly. Nothing ever interested him... not any longer.

"Still won't talk?"

The Pekoponjin was stupid, this Keronjin knew. They all were. None of them could persuade him to talk, not matter what they tried. He knew their kind faces were masks for him only, maybe hoping he was the weakest link since he couldn't be captured and still refused to leave.

But in the case that he did speak, they still would not get the information they wanted. For two reasons...

One, he would not tell them. He was a ghost, and a young-minded one at that, but he was not stupid, and nor was he a traitor. He pledged full loyalty to his leader, as his brother had done, and had never once broken that vow, and never would. Nobody could convince him otherwise; they others, he knew, could be broken. He couldn't be...

Two; they couldn't understand him. Simple resonance was the only language he knew. Repeating his name in slow, fast, short or long impulses. The only one who had been able to ever understand him was his brother. It had been a good thing, though... almost bonding. Their own secret language, although his older brother couldn't speak it; but, the ghost reasoned unenthusiastically, he _could_ speak English/Japanese, and he at least understood that.

His brother...

The ghost found himself turning a bit, drifting towards the wall numbly as he let his mind return to its constant, obsessive emotions. His brother... why had they done that to his brother? His brother had not deserved such a thing...

_Giruru..._ Although he was almost autistic in his words, his mind was sharp and comprehending. He loved his brother dearly, perhaps too much... now, he would never leave his brothers final resting place.

He had been one of the two right-hand men of their leader, his brother had been. The ghost had always been proud of him, proud to be related to him, and so close at that. His close relationship with the leader had been his easy downfall; that, and his physical makeup.

The younger brother was a gas-like entity, almost always mistaken for a ghost; not that he minded... he _did_ look like a ghost. The two fire sprites that followed him, his tail, his kinked hat flaps, his scythe... His mouth was sewn shut, as was his left eye, but his right one was a bright, enthusiastic blue.

Well, it used to be... now it was empty. Blank...

Giruru had been made purely of blue liquid, with a single eye on the left side of his head, and a drop-symbol on his forehead. He'd been able to elongate his body in any way, a very convenient attack formation since he knew how to command his body.

But the Pekoponjin thought they knew everything. _Created a second... we have all this one's information. The other must be some sort of autistic... from their planet..._

They had believed that turning Giruru into a gas would make him like his younger brother; back then, they had known that he couldn't speak anything but his name. Some had been enraged by this and accused him of faking it, but it was real. Giruru had even told them...

Once they knew everything of Giruru's body, they had decided to make him like his younger brother. Because they were so smart, they knew of the three different physical elements; solid, gas and liquid. Turning a liquid into a gas wasn't hard, not even for Pekoponjin.

Unfortunately, their pride and stupidity had led to Giruru's tortured, agonized, uncomprehendably painful death. His first moans had made the ghost uncomfortable; he'd actually wondered if this would work. But the little sounds of discomfort his brother had started making had worried him.

When he finally started screaming, the ghost had panicked and tried to stop the Pekoponjin. They had simple ignored him and listened to his brothers screams until they abruptly vanished. When they had searched for the gas within, nothing had been traceable.

It had failed and, simple as that, they had moved on.

It had simply traumatized the ghost; he couldn't stand it. He'd cried, impossible but he'd done it, over and over, unable to stop himself.

"_Dokuku. Get a hold of yourself... your brother is dead. You have other responsibilities."_

The leaders blunt words had hurt Dokuku, but he'd knew that his leader was right. He had tried desperately to free his leader from his prison; the darkest cell of all, hidden in the far wing of the labs, his wrists shackled above him a good four feet, holding him five off the ground, his ankles also bound by shackles and forced painfully below him, stopping any escape he might be able to fulfill with them.

Not only that, but a collar was latched around his neck, similar ones around his wrists and ankles and, by a simple push of a button, spikes could be impaled into his skin, deep enough to either knock him unconscious from the plethora of pain or just make him succumb to his knees.

Or possibly kill him... but they didn't want that; he had more information than all of them.

So he was kept isolated, more than all of the others. Never able to leave his cell, bound almost constantly with chains around his wrists and ankles, one even around his neck, chaining his neck to the wall behind him and a second out the front to keep his head forward and down, facing the ground. He could never relax, never simply sleep without waking in constant pain.

His only form of company (the kind that didn't want to hurt him and break him and learn everything from him so they could kill him) was Dokuku. He kept the leader updated on the other's states, and had seen the pained look flit over his emotions when he reported Robobo's dismemberment.

Even when he reprimanded Dokuku, he'd been in pain inside.

If he had been in any other conditions, Dokuku would be unable to see his emotions so easily splayed across his revealed face. They had stripped him of his helmet, lancet and shield, locking them away far off, too far from him for his liking, and leaving him stripped, naked and vulnerable, hating every second that he was revealed to the world as the weak, helpless, vulnerable tadpole–

Dokuku stopped and looked down to see Yukiki being carried by a pair of guards, looking helpless and hating it. He followed above them closely, listening faintly as the Pekopnjin listed off little comments that Yukiki wholly ignored. Although, at the mention of Robobo's rebuild...

And a meet, it seemed. Dokuku felt just a little happy at this, relieved maybe. At least Robobo could come back... that would leave their members at a solid eight.

Two gone from their original ten...

Not so bad...... right...?

* * *

Yup! A peack at Shurara's condition. Ouuuuuh...

...KEEP THOSE DUST BUNNIES AWAY FROM ME D8


	5. A Shadow's Nightmare

Yeah, I just threw down my first idea... kinda sloppy but oh well... Anyways, I guess I should explain my thoughts of the Corps around now.

I always picture it as this...

Shurara is the leader

Giruru and Kagege are his right-hand men, kind of partners even though Giruru and Dokuku are partners, though that's sometimes only considered a brother thing... so, it's kind of a triangle.

Gyororo and Nuii are partners, and Gyororo doesn't like the fact that Nuii is kinda weak, but secretly likes the doll and is kinda happy to be partners with him.

Putata and Mekeke were introduced as the Corps were being banned together; Putata was already in it when Mekeke came in and he immediately liked Mekeke and they were partners, yatta yatta, they're closer than normal partners. :3

Yukiki and Robobo are partners. Yukiki is rebellious and a loner, not too too loyal to Shurara, and he doesn't like people thinking of him weak. So, even though he's kind of a jerk, he hates making Robobo feel bad and really actually likes the robot, and only stays on for him, though after a while he kinda started to like everyone else too.

((wow this is turning into a fanfic in itself XD))

Anyways... I haven't gotten all the ranks through, but... I think it's somewhere along the lines of Shurara, Kagege/Giruru, Robobo, Putata, Mekeke, Dokuku, Yukiki, Gyororo/Nuii... I hadn't even thought of anything past right now so, bear with me if it changes XD Anywaaaays... BACK TO THE REAL STUFF!!

* * *

The shadow manipulator's ragged breathing could be heard from outside his cell, the blood and tears stains still scattered all about the room. Black cement, to keep him weak. All light cut off... so he couldn't do what he was born to do; manipulate shadows.

He sat against the wall, his legs hugged tightly to his chest, eyes (eye) shut tightly, trying to breath without the pain that came with each inhale and exhale.

The screams that he had produced days before had torn his throat almost literally, leaving his words hoarse and few. The bandages he'd been supplied were wrapped tightly around his mouth, nose and just below his single cross-eye, his hands, feet, stomach and hat flaps. Those hadn't hurt so much; they weren't a physical part of his body, though lots seemed to believe so.

He lifted his hands, slightly shivering in the cold room, to where he might be able to see them and found only blackness. He squinted his eyes (eye!) and envisioned what he would see there if he had some light to see by; bandaged hands that would never be the same, that would always have scars and the painful memory of this damned place...

If, of course, this place ever turned into a memory and not a permanent residence...

He swallowed thickly and forced himself to exhale, sitting back against the wall and staring blankly at the ground, touching the bandages on his face and wincing a bit when it hurt both the hand and face. He let his hand rest softly on his leg, still wondering how he was going to eat... and _when_.

He shut his eyes and moaned a bit, leaning back. "Oh, Giruru," he moaned softly, the loss of his fellow right-hand man and friend still fresh. And what they had done to him."Oh... no..."

He still couldn't believe they would do such a thing. But...

Was it really so unbelievable?... no. It just hurt to think of Giruru, being put through such torment... being dead... gone.... forever.

"No," he whispered, lowering his head and shutting his eyes tightly. "Please... no... Giruru......."

They had already lost so much, and it was taking its harsh toll on him. Losing two members so easily to these Pekoponjin... they were heartless, so sadistically cruel...

Losing Giruru had made it so much worse on him; the only other in the same power and command as him was gone. He felt so responsible for those that remained. Mekeke... Putata... Dokuku... Yukiki... Robobo... Gyrororo too. Of course, he hadn't heard much of Gyororo's condition. They kept him and Shurara far from the others. But why...

It hurt his head to think of these things. All the responsibility... helplessness... worry...

"Stop," he muttered to himself and forced himself to get a hold of himself. He was starting to drive himself insane; literally, and that scared him. He'd had a nightmare last night before he realized he was awake and had almost screamed. The shadows had been trying to drag him into the wall, betraying him and trying to pull him away from his last hopes, smother him.

It still scared him a bit to think his shadows could possibly betray him; it wasn't possible, right? No, of course not...

But what if the Pekoponjins had been right? What if his shadow symbols had had something to do with his abilities?

When he had broken free that first time after hearing what they had dared do to Yukiki; an open flame, trying to melt the helmet to see if it were weak like his snow body... of course not, it wasn't weak, but he knew it had hurt; of course it had hurt. That helmet _was_ Yukiki...

He'd used his shadows to free himself, racing through the halls in a rash attempt to free his subordinates and superior until the electrode attached to his neck had set off, making him yelp in pain and tumble right to the feet of a scientist that had ideas about his body.

His punishment was simple; no painkillers during the surgery. That word had scared him; _still_ scared him. _Surgery..._

His fears had been replaced with near-panic when he heard their conversations, voicing their beliefs and suspicions that his manipulatory abilities were bound to him by the markings on his body. He'd struggled viciously, trying to explain desperately that his markings were as simple as their own markings; moles, birth marks, he didn't know many but he had been reduced to near pleas as they strapped him to the table. He'd lashed out with his shadows in a final frantic attempt until the lights suddenly vanished and he lost all his power, gasping in surprise.

Night vision goggles... who would have thought the Pekoponjins would actually think of using that? It had been a smart move really...

He couldn't see what they were doing in the pitch blackness, struggling desperately, gasping in his near-panic. He felt his heart racing in his chest, beating like a jackhammer when he heard a sharp scraping noise. _Stop thrashing around, or I might miss._ That's what the scientist had said. He hadn't wanted to know _what_ he would miss; lapsing into quick, thick breaths, he'd forced himself to stop moving, his fists shaking a bit in his terror. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life; the darkness had always held a certain ominous tint to him, but now it was just plain suffocating, pressing down on him like a physical property.

The touch of the scalpel on his cheek had made him inhale sharply before it had started to cut through his skin, following the flame-like markings all over his face. He'd started jerking away, panicking now, and let out a sharp scream of pain. A hand had closed around his throat and slammed his head back on the metal table, dazing him considerable and making him fall back into agonized little whimpers of despair.

Through the haze he'd felt the sharp tip continue along his face, making him moan loudly and struggle against the binds holding him down. There was a low murmur that he missed, hunching his shoulders and trying to pull away. He felt the blade skimming right under his eye and cried out in dismay, wondering if they planned to take his eye with them.

Thankfully, they did not, but he heard them contemplating wether to or not.

"_Please don't!", _he'd managed to exclaim when the argument sounded one-sided, the side that held suspicions about it. "_It's my eye! I can't... Just stop, they... the markings, they have nothing to do with my powers!"_

"_And you want to tell us you were born with your "powers"?"_

"_Yes,"_ he'd whined, and felt the sharp tip of the scalpel on his face one more, recoiling from the cold metal. With a simple _stop moving_, the surgery had restarted, finally ending with the last line along his neck. His breath was hard and uneven and he felt something wedging its way under his skin, a part that they'd cut, and he screamed out, jerking away uselessly. He hated showing such weakness to the enemies, especially Pekoponjin, but his fear... pain... he couldn't hold it in.

He writhed under the table as whatever it was touched his flesh and made it burn a bit, the air stinging it and making him whimper a bit. A gloved hand had felt along his face for the edges before taking the sides and ripping the markings off.

He couldn't stop screaming for a long while, blood cutting off some of the wails as it stained his face and flooded his throat, tears streaming from his eye. The stinging air hadn't helped in the least, and he'd merely started jerking again, moaning and crying out the longer the pain was there.

He hadn't noticed them start on his hands until he felt the skin there being ripped too, and screamed in horror and agony, arching his back in a vain attempt to free himself. The darkness had felt like a traitor now, and he vaguely wondered if he would ever be able to trust himself to his The shadow user shut his eyes again and hid his bandaged face into the crook of his arm, waiting for the horror to pass, slowly as usual, but getting faster, easier to accept almost.

The los of Giruru, however, was still fresh...

"Doku doku..."

He looked up and saw the ghost of their Platoon, Dokuku, hovering halfway in the room, looking uncertainly at him, head tilted just a bit at the side, eye worried and nervous.

"Dokuku," he murmured hoarsely, and managed a weak smile under the bandages. Seeming to sense the smile, the creature floated forward and lowered around the shadow manipulator's lap, pushing his head up against his shoulder and nuzzling him almost like a cat. "I know... I miss him too..."

He pet Dokuku as well as he could, wincing a bit when he pressed too hard but not giving up.

"Dokuku... What's happening with the others? Did we... lose anyone else?" He didn't want to ask, but knew he had to. Oh, Keron, what would he do if Dokuku nodded? What if it were Mekeke... Putata... Yukiki, Gyororo.... Or Shurara? What if the scientists had finally killed Shurara?...

Blessedly, Dokuku floated back and shut his eye, shaking his head a bit and opening it again to look at the user.

"Doku..."

"I know," he mumbled and reached out a hand. Dokuku reached his own normal hand out and let it phase through the shadow manipulator's, and he was glad the ghost didn't try to touch him physically; it might've hurt...

"Let's... count, alright?" Dokuku nodded solemnly. "I need to distract myself..."

Shutting his eye, he let his mind drift, still sensing Dokuku near him. "Putata and Mekeke are together and okay... right?" He opened his eye and saw Dokuku nod agreeably, then smiled faintly. "Okay... Yukiki is... alone, still..."

Now Dokuku shook his head. He blinked and sat up, feeling a pang of hope and wondering why it hurt.

"Is it Robobo...?"

Dokuku nodded, his stitched mouth smiling a bit.

"They're... bringing him back. Right?"

Again, a nod. Kagege felt relief flood over him in an almost painful wave and didn't try and stop it. To have one of the members back... returning...

"That's... that's amazing," he breathed, and Dokuku nodded happily. Or, as happily as he could, with his brother dead like he was...

It hurt him again to think of that and winced, making himself move on.

"So... Yukiki and Robobo are alive..." A nod. "That's four... Have you... found Gyororo?"

Dokuku shook his head and the manipulator sighed and looked down before catching the uncertain glint in Dokuku's eye. He looked up again and stared at the ghost, who hovered slowly, hardly moving to the untrained eye, and then he saw it again; that flicker of unease.

"...You _did_ find him, didn't you?"

Dokuku shook his head again, but not in a response; in denial.

"Dokuku... is Gyororo alive?"

There was a hesitation but Dokuku looked down now and nodded.

"...Is it.... is it bad?" he asked thickly, feeling dismayed; what kind of things had they done to the young subordinate? He was still a tadpole; oh Keron, how could they do something to a _tadpole?_ Of course, Nuii...

He cringed at the thought but shuddered, taking a deep breath. Gyororo... focus on the ones alive... Then mourn when you're free...

He looked up to see Dokuku nodded, the smallest of shimmers in his eye revealing a tear.

"Oh Dokuku... Is he..."

"Doku doku dokuku doku."

He was shaking his head, almost pleading the manipulator to stop. He winced at the begging look in the ghost's eye but complied, not sure he _wanted _to know if it was hurting Dokuku so badly.

"Then... That's.... five..." He shook his head, touching his own bandaged face, feeling weak again. Five... so few... "Dokuku... you're six.... Shurara...?"

"Doku doku..."

"Nothing's changed...? He's still on solitary confinement..."

"Doku..." He nodded gravely.

"Is he... did they break him?" He wasn't sure how else to word it. He didn't know who was broken yet, but he knew he himself almost was. What they had done to him... These Pekoponjin were more monstrous than the Viper.

"Doku!" He shook his head hard and they both smiled faintly. It would take a lot to break Shurara... both of them knew it.

But when the leader _did_ break... surely, the rest would follow. Without a leader to get them to escape, they would crumble. And their fights would be pointless; if Shurara succumbed, told them everything...

But Shurara wouldn't succumb; this is what they held on to so dearly. Shurara _wouldn't. _Couldn't.

"That's seven..."

"Doku doku doku..."

"Right... Kagege..." He smiled wanly and held his hands up, seeing the blood sodden bandages in the glow of his eye. "Can't forget me...."

He shut his eye again and lay back, already knowing of the last two. Knowing... mourning...

"Eight... Eight of us left..." Kagege opened his eye again and looked up, almost pleading, to Dokuku. "Dokuku... are we going to escape...?" He felt odd, asking his subordinate such a weak question... but he had to know. Dokuku was the only one with free reign over these labs...

Dokuku's grave eye lowered to the ground and Kagege choked back a low sigh of dismay, lowering his own eyes.

"Do... ku."

He looked up and saw a sad smile on the ghosts face and a small shrug rolled his shoulders. Kagege smiled weakly, knowing the ghost wouldn't give up. They all had to be strong, if they ever had a chance. They couldn't lose hope... They had to escape. Had to...

"...We'll make it," Kagege said softly, and Dokuku smiled a bit brighter. Kagege smiled a bit back; small things like Dokuku's smile made him feel like smiling in this dark place. "Dokuku... we'll survive... all of us.... I... I can't lose any more..." He lowered his eye and rubbed it with his forearm just above the bandages, shutting his eye. "I... I don't know what I'll do if we lose anybody else..."

"Doku..."

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Anyways, hope you enjoyed. 3

I'll give you guys a break XD Gyroro is up next. Bewaaaare...


	6. The Demon

You're gonna have to blame Lini for all my updating today XD... That and, well, I wanna get this stuff up as I go along... so, it's a hazardous schedule. This is the chapter before last for Part. 1. :3 Chapter 5, Gyororo's, ENJOY.

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He didn't know it, but he was being talked about, far off in this lab. In one of the regular cells, his superior and ally were talking about him, worrying about him. They couldn't find him… He didn't know that Dokuku could explore freely. He didn't think it possible, really, that anyone could escape the demons here…

Not once did he see these monsters as scientists. Not even monsters. To him, they were simply…

Demons.

His hand twitched and he curled it into a small fist, feeling his chest rise and fall slowly with his breaths, his tail lifting weakly and swivling in a hopeless attempt to see the room around it.

He leaned back and lowered his head, feeling the bandage still wrapped around his head, right over his eyes.

Eyes…

He choked on a sob and screamed in pain, grabbing the bandage as a tear slipped down his cheek. He started sobbing uncontrollably, falling onto his side and curling into a tight ball, jerking around, tearing the bandage to pieces, thrashing around, screaming almost hysterically, his unheard cries echoing off the walls around him.

He finally wrenched the bandage off and stopped his panicking abruptly, breathing hard, his tears still dripping out around his tightly shut eyelids. He sat up, shaking, and pushed himself back against the wall, extending his arms at his sides and digging his claws into the wall, panting, waiting for the hysterics to move on before doing anything.

The memories always made him go into a panic, disbelief and grief driving him into screaming fits and tears. What use could he be now? How could anybody accept him, ever look at him without scowling at his uselessness… without thinking about him being the weakest link.

He felt a jolt and his grip tightened on the wall, sending a crack up the concrete and making him choke on a sob in his throat.

_What if they got abandoned him?_

He felt his heart start to race and whimpered a bit at the thought before chasing it away viciously. They wouldn't do that to him; they couldn't… they wouldn't…

He swallowed thickly and started to focus on gathering his strength, energy… his bravery. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes slowly, all seven, and saw…

Blackness.

He sobbed again and swung his head around, crying out in grief.

The eyes on his hat, face, the ones on his stomach, forehead and tail… each area was a gaping black hole now, empty of his meaning, his purpose; his eyes had been stolen from him. Gouged from their foundation, their home… Stolen away from their master, their—

A low creaking noise made him perk up, listening to the soft footsteps approaching him before breaking down, whimpering pitifully and shrinking back as he felt the shadow of the Demon fall over his body.

"Hello, 877…"

He shrank back, his breathing fast and thick in his throat, grabbing the walls behind him and trying to hide in the shadows of the walls, tears pooling in his open eye sockets before spilling over, sending stabbing, agonizing waves of pain to his brain. Crying hurt now… oh Keron, why…

The scientist looked down at the trembling alien, clad in blood-stained white ground-length, long-sleeved smock, the bandages that had been attached to his multiply eye sockets strewn about the dark room, his empty eyes staring up at him blankly, tears streaming down the cheeks as the creature whimpered pathetically, his breath catching in his throat in low, weak, terrified sobs. He felt a strong spark of triumph at having dashed this aliens strong will. It hadn't been hard; he had used his eyes as weapons, so he'd simple disarmed the fool. Only, now that he had already completed the irreversible operation, did he figure out that he'd done the excruciating, horrifying, scarring surgery to a mere child.

Not that it changed his look on things; the alien was an invader, a threat. He'd simply broken the spirit to fight, and now he could get whatever information he wanted…

For the past two weeks or so, since the operation, they'd had to keep the boy on anesthetic and, inevitably, painkillers. But now he could interrogate the child as much as he wished… It made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

He grinned widely.

"Feeling any better… 877?"

"What… what did you do to me?" he whispered, unable to stop himself from trembling violently. He was aware of the cold room around him, the nip of the air on his skin, as well as the soft whisper of something barely flitting over his skin. He cringed and whimpered, starting to thrash around until he felt the cloth around his body and realized it was the shirt. He took a moment to register that he was wearing a smock, like Mekeke, and simply hugged himself tightly, breathing hard, heart racing.

"We relieved you of your threat," he heard the Demon say with a grin in the tone and he moaned, digging his claws into his arms automatically and whining loudly.

His threat… he was a threat… not any more… he wasn't a threat any more…

He was just a blind, weaponless, pathetic heap of young, helpless boy to be tormented and teased.

He felt more stinging pain as he lowered his head, feeling the tears drop right out of his eye sockets instead of sliding up the fresh skin. He whimpered, his hat flaps falling and hiding his face from the sides, his back shaking with weak sobs.

He could feel little pools of blood and tears from his tail, stomach, forehead and hat, now feeling the warm liquid flowing from his regular eye sockets as well.

"You shouldn't cry so much," the Demon said, only sounding amused. "You'll start to bleed."

"Leave me alone," he whispered hoarsely, hugging himself tightly and leaning over more, rocking a bit, trembling.

"You aren't in any position to be giving orders," the Demon mused and he knew it was right…

"Now tell me what your real name is. All your little friends insist on being called by those repetitive, obnoxious names; I haven't heard you complain once."

"I just don't care," he murmured raggedly, letting the blood and tears mingle in the air between his eyes and the ground before listening to the little splashes they made on contact with the cement ground.

"We still need your real name, 877. For record."

He didn't want to tell them, feeling like it might be the last thing he could hold on to, to keep precious to himself without revealing it to be criticized and ripped away like everything else; his freedom… his dignity… his _sight_.

"…come on, 877."

He heard the Demon crouch in front of him and cringed away, letting his eyelids slide shut almost instinctively, his tail raising before falling back weakly. He felt a hand grab his chin and cried out quietly when his head was jerked forward, finding himself on his hands and knees before he could realize what was happening. His chin was lifted a bit and he knew he would have been looking right at the Demon if he had eyes, and he whimpered weakly, terror seizing him. He feared this invisible monster more than anything. It had robbed him of his sight, and it would never be satisfied until it had everything this boy had to offer…

"Tell me, 877, or I'll make you tell me."

"I… I…" His sobs choked his words back, before breaking down into a quiet crying fit. He was kept in the same position, the grip on his chin never loosening and keeping him locked in place.

He felt something touched his eyelids lightly and screamed, trying to jerk away. He felt something on his hands and started wrenching at them, suddenly feeling more on his feet keeping him in the awkward kneeling position, head held up for the Demon to do whatever he wished.

He started lashing his tail in a weak attempt to see what was happening, frantic sobs breaking free in his throat as his eyelid was forced open. Everything remained black until an abrupt flash of red in his brain made him scream in agony. Something inside of his eye socket burned and he started jerking frantically, screaming in pain and hysterics, his heart racing, almost trying to rip free of his chest and making him short of breath as terror wrenched his gut and he suddenly realized he was going to be sick.

The Demon pulled back and the pressure on his hands and feet vanished. He crumpled to his elbows and let his head lean on the ground, throwing up harshly and choking on a sob, scrambling away from the disgusting scent and covering his nose and mouth, breathing hard and feeling hot tears and blood streaming down his cheeks, tail… everywhere.

"877?"

"Gyororo!" he cried, hugging his legs tightly to his chest and sobbing uncontrollably, crying frantically. "Gyororo, Gyororo, Gyororo!"

There was a smile in the voice that said, "good boy," and he heard the Demon stand and leave, the door sliding shut behind him.

Gyororo remained in the position, moaning his name over and over and rocking back and forth, his grip on his elbows shaking, blood escaping the shallow wounds on his arms as he felt himself slowly going insane.

He jerked and cried out in dismay, realizing what was happening.

He was losing his mind…

He had felt the first affects the day before they stole his eyes from him. The day they had stolen the other most important thing to him… from him…

"Nuii," he whispered hoarsely, shutting his empty eyes again. _Oh, Nuii… How could they do that to you?_

He kept his thoughts on a real, sane track. Painful, yes… but sane…

"Oh Keron, Nuii," he whimpered, hugging himself tightly. Never had he wished Nuii was here with him so badly…

"Shurara," he whispered, hugging himself tightly. "Please… save me…"

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DON'T HURT ME DDDX *runs from raving pissed off Gyororo-fans*


	7. The Leader

WAAAAAAAAAAIT.

Alright my friends, listen up before reading, I have an important announcement. This chapter is the last chapter of PART 1. WOOT. XD Done Part 1 in two days, huzaaaah...  
Anyways, this chapter has a sexual reference, but nothing really serious happens. You sickos. XD... Although, some ideas have been popping into my mind (and if it pops into mine, it pops into the scientists'... ahaha) and if you think that it might be... acceptable, please say so in the pretty reviews. :3 X3 Anyways...

....*sips water and sits back to watch you read* C:

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Hanging limply five feet off the ground, arms bound above his head and feet forced farther below him than nature had intended, he had a choker around his neck and small collars on his wrists and ankles, all with those special little spikes that could do anything from kill him to send him into a spiraling black abyss of pain.

Glaring at the ground with his revealed eyes, his lips pinched together in a single, furious line, his eyes blazing with hate and vengeance.

Chains around his wrists and ankles, keeping him stretched in a star formation, his head forced down by the chains around his choker and keeping him facing the ground constantly, another on the back of his neck keeping him from moving his head at all.

Stripped of his helmet, lancet and shield, stripped bare and left to be discriminated and studied while he bore the small comments on his tail, his facial markings, age approximations, questions of blood samples, tissue samples, brain capacity, intelligence…

Forced into silence by his own rage, never responding to their questions. Ignoring them, refusing to talk at all. They began to question his vocal abilities, but he knew he had lost that chance; two of them had heard him speak when they first came to rob the Corps from their home…

"Is the bi-colour normal amongst the species?" he heard one of the foreign scientists pipe up. The reply was a no, and a short explanation of their colour ranges was supplied. They all took small notes on it until resuming watching the silent, fuming Keronjin.

"Does it speak?" one of them called and they all looked to him expectantly. He remained silent. "…does it even understand us?" the same voice inquired.

"It does," one of his personal captors replied and walked up the stairs to stand next to his chained form, resting a hand on one of the chains holding his arms above his back.

Whenever he was on display, he was forced to bend at the waist, his arms pulled taut behind his back, almost dislocating them and stopping just prior the painful action. His legs were pulled tightly below him and he felt like a tramp almost, in the disgusting, humiliating position.

His choker kept his head down as usual, a second chain attached to the roof for minimal head motions.

As usual.

There was no wall behind him when he was in this disgracing position, and his only freedom was his sharp pointed tail, which was free of chains or restraints. He used it to cover his rear end and the areas between his legs, despising the scientists that pulled it out of the way to inspect his private areas. He never once blushed; his hate for them merely grew stronger.

_Sick, perverted, disgusting—_

"Does it have no sex organs?" the one handling his tail now asked and he shut his eyes tightly, grabbing the chains around his wrists and holding them tightly, shutting his fists and feeling his rage start to tip over the edge.

They disgraced him, humiliated him, embarrassed him, _shamed_ him… And if they dared even try… try…..

He saw his personal handler walk up and he followed him with hateful eyes, watching out of the corners of his eyes until the scientist vanished behind him. He tensed his spine and shut his eyes tightly again as he felt fingers skimming over his stomach, sliding down until they felt the small slit that led into his personal pouch, the hiding place of his true privates.

"If you dare do anything more I'll slit your throat you disgraceful, detestable, opprobrious, unworthy mire…"

All the scientists were looking up now, staring at the small alien that had, finally, spoken, its voice low with threat and malice, his eyes glaring hatefully out of the corners of his eyes, his fists shaking with rage and fury, as his handler paused his fingers.

"It appears he's finally decided to voice his opinions," the handler mused behind him and a low chuckle went through the crowd, low murmurs rising as several forms wrote down his words. His rage flared as his threat was unheard and the fingers closed around his member, making him falter, a hot flush finally creeping across his cheeks as he shut his eyes tightly, lowering his head in shame.

His privates were slipped free of their protective pouch, revealed to the entire group of scientists to scan and criticize.

His heart was beating a bit unevenly, the simple touch enough to make him feel like he was burning up. Still a tadpole, he was unable to control his hormones, and that made it even more disgraceful.

"This species apparently has a protective pouch to hide its genitals, as many of our own animals here on Earth." A few agreeing murmurs rose and some heads nodded. "It's apparently self-lubricating, although we've not had any tests done to see their mating habits. Also, we've only been able to gather males, although if drastic measure are to be taken—"

"Disgusting, shameless monsters!" he snarled, jerking on his wrists and hearing the satisfying creak of chains, pulling his head up and feeling the choker dig into the back of his neck, pulling as hard as he could with no give at all. He jerked his hips and managed to free his member from the sicko's grasp, continuing to jerk around until he was breathless, his heart beating hard in his chest, his breath coming in short little gasps as the chains on his choker were forced in different directions, tightening the choker and closing his airways halfway, making it hard to breath. His struggles faded off into harsh, pained pants, hoarse gasps for breaths, and silent curses to himself.

"Unacceptable, 900," his handler said and pulled the remote that had his own insignia on it, flipping the glass lid open. "Ladies and gentlemen, such outburst are not left lightly here. You'll be able to witness how we obtain obedience from our captives, while also diminishing defiance and rebellion."

The chains were detached from the roof and ground, making him twist in the air and land on his feet, taking deep breaths from his freshly opened airways, still breathing hard.

The button on the remote was pushed and he felt sharp, rather thick spikes impale his wrists and ankles, similar, thinner ones stabbing through the skin on his neck.

He shut his eyes tightly and arched his back, his fists half-clenched at a wild grab for his neck, swallowing a cry soundlessly and feeling himself shaking a bit, blood dripping from around his shackles. He was forced to hold his breath, lest he cry out in pain and show weakness.

A foot planted on his back sent him sprawling onto his hands and knees, hunching his shoulders and shutting his eyes tightly, never lowering his head. He wouldn't shame himself in front of these creatures. He wouldn't disgrace his Platoon!

He struggled to one leg, swallowing thickly and tasting the metallic tang of blood as it went down his throat, standing shakily and stumbling back a step but regaining his balance. He stood in front of them all, his eyes flitting from one to the other, glaring at them hatefully and proving his worth as a living creature; not their test subject.

All at once, the spikes vanished and he dragged in hard, painful breaths, unable to move for a moment before he was knocked onto the ground with a foot, the boot planted painfully between his shoulder blades and forcing the wind out of his lungs, pinning him there, arms splayed out. His wrists were grabbed and pinned behind his back where they were shackled tightly, being pulled into the air before his feet were similarly attached at the ankles, smaller chains being wrapped around his calves and thighs and forcing his legs to bend a bit. He hunched his shoulders and glared at the ground while he was prepared for transportation.

His handler looked up and looked over the crowd, who was watching expectantly.

"That will be all for today, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, and the leader watched as the crowd dispersed into little groups of chattering scientists, and though he could pick up a few conversations on his physical humiliation and anatomic makeup, he also picked out some from some game called "Football" and "Hockey".

"Head down, 900."

He didn't comply. He felt hard hands on the back of his head and it was pushed down, making him growl faintly in response but not retaliate. He saw one of his other handlers bunching up a bandana before it was shoved into his mouth, making him gag for a few moments before choking back the last ones and glaring up at the Pekoponjin.

The one behind him laughed silently and wrapped the blindfold around his eyes, casting him into blackness. Soon, he could feel the light breeze of motion touching his naked body and he shut his eyes against the ominous blackness, sighing around his makeshift gag. They never got anything else to gag him; this worked fine, they'd said one time.

"How soon do you believe that Dr. Nooran will keep them off?" the handler carrying him asked, and he muted them out a bit, concentrating on their steps, hoping he might hear someone's voice… he knew he had to help the others, but with the high security they had him on, he wasn't sure how he was going to do it.

He hoped Dokuku would pay him a visit today, and hoped moreso that they hadn't lost another member…

"I heard they might put that rebellious one up," the one holding him said and he twitched, starting to listen for the first time.

"The one with the broken will, or…"

"Yeah. They just figured out by the anatomy that it's just a kid, so doesn't have much information. Of course, some of the doctors feel kind of bad now about the operation…"

He started jerking on his wrists, eyes wide behind his blindfold in fury and disbelief, starting to struggle harder. _Gyororo! What have you done to him!?_ His words were muffled by the bandana and he started working his jaw on it, still gaining surprised glances from his handlers. He just realized how much he hated that term; _handlers._ That's what they always called themselves and always were called by the scientists, and he'd somehow gotten the phrase stuck in his head.

He jerked on his wrists, working his jaw harder and digging his fangs into the bandana, struggling to spit it out and failing miserably, shaking his head frantically to get the blindfold off.

"He wants to say something," the one not holding him stated simply. The one holding him obviously didn't like it by the way he hesitated before yanking the gag out, making him cough hard and shake his head.

"_What have you done to Gyororo!?"_ he demanded, glaring with pure, raw hate at the blackness the blindfold provided.

Outside his field of vision, the handlers exchanged a glance.

"Wait, the one…"

"…Oh," his personal handler said and he jerked in his grasp, feeling hate rise like bile in his throat.

"_What… did… you… do?"_ he hissed, raging now. One second… all he needed was one second, and he would kill these two indefinitely. And whoever had dared they their hands on Gyororo… _hurt_ him to the length of regret……

"We didn't do anything," the handler not holding him snapped and, suddenly, the gag was rammed back into his mouth, halfway down his throat before the apparently angered hand withdrew. He gagged harshly, thrashing almost desperately, unable to drag in a breath around the bandana. They started walking, heedless and unnoticing of his suffocating. He started to feel light headed, his throat constricting desperately around the gag, groaning deep in his throat and feeling his feet start to tingle before turning numb. The pins and needles sensation seemed to creep up his legs and spread around his stomach and chest, claiming his fingers and making them loosen weakly. Beyond the blindfold, he was suddenly sure the hallway was tilting wildly, spinning around and below him like a crazy joy ride, making him moan weakly deep in his throat and feel like he was falling, spiraling down into a blackness that wasn't a blindfold.

* * *

Yeah, I'm a bitch with the cliffhangers. 3 I'm still contemplating on how exactly to wake him up... aw well. Hope you enjooooyed~


	8. Debates Change Everything

Hark! Is this the first chapter of Part 2 I hear? It appears it is!

Yes, this is Chapter 1 of Part 2. Also known as Chapter 7 in total xD Anyways, it starts with Mekeke, but I ended up making a chapter with Mekeke AND Putata, so you have 2 of Mekeke/Mekeke & Putata chapters in a row. When I update the next one, I'll also upload the third Chapter to amend for that.

Enjoy~

* * *

"Let's start with a few simple questions, shall we?"

Mekeke found himself in the Room, the door shut and locked securely, the small camera in the corner whirring quietly to turn and face him.

He was sitting on a metal table that protruded from the wall, leaning against said wall with his hands shackled to the wall on either side of his body, at an exact 40 degree angle, according to his assigned interrogator. His smock was left where it belonged, on his body, and his feet were locked to the table so he was sitting straight. He felt the cool suctions all over his body, attached to wires that snaked out from below his smock and mask and were hooked up to a small box that he couldn't see the screen to; it was facing away from him.

He swallowed thickly, unable to drag his eyes away from the box. He didn't know if it would shock him, or burn him, or make him hallucinate, or give him a headache, or... or...

"Sure," he mumbled, his fingers twitching in anxiety, his heart beating hard.

"Alright..." The doctor reached up and typed a few things on the box (which was apparently a computer on the side not facing Mekeke), switched some buttons, looked up, and smiled evilly. Mekeke bit his lip hard and shrank away from the smile, watching him with fear.

"What's your name?"

"M... Mekeke..."

He was a little caught off guard; they normally started with "easy questions" like _why are you here_ and _where is your planet's coordinates_ and traitorous questions in the like.

"How old are you?"

Mekeke told him quietly, fear rising in his stomach and tightening his chest. Something bad would happen soon... the sadist was just biding time. It hurt Mekeke inside... anxiety...

"What is your title?"

"S... Super Marionette Mekeke."

"So you're a puppeteer?"

"Yes..."

"And what we confiscated; that was your puppet."

"Mm..." He nodded a bit, looking down. When they had suddenly appeared in his room, Putata had been there, thankfully. They'd manage to fight off most of them, and Mekeke had even possessed a few and saw them as nothing more than slim-antic Pekoponjins.

But when he had lost control of his marionette and it had fallen limply to the ground, his other real-life puppets also falling to freedom and turning their guns on him instead of one another...

He had been too confused for anything to register, and he'd suddenly found himself falling from the roof, feet caught in a web or chain of some sort, and crashing onto the ground, knocking his head a good one and dazing himself.

After a little more resistance they'd finally been forced away, and they had taken all their belongings... Putata's paintbrush (which they thankfully didn't know was an alien), Mekeke's puppet, Shurara's armor... Everything had been taken from them, though they all knew Shurara had it the worst...

"What are you thinking about, Mekeke?"

He glanced up, pulled free of his thoughts then looked down again, nibbling on his lip a bit.

"Home," he mumbled, shutting his golden eye. "...just home..."

"Hm..." He heard typing before another question; "what's your planet's name?"

Mekeke let his eyelid slide open and looked up at the doctor, contemplating telling him. There couldn't really be anything they could do with just a name... but still, he should--

"Lying isn't an option, I may remind you," the doctor said coolly and Mekeke winced a bit at being caught. "A heart beat changes when someone's about to lie; or lies."

"I..." Mekeke faltered and looked down again. _Keron._ How could he give up his home so simply? He couldn't think of a way they could use it to find the planet; or hurt it, in any way.

_But what if they have alien tracker technology?_

_How would they get that...?_

_How did they know where you were?_

Mekeke looked up and saw the doctor's finger hovering over a small blue button and he stared at it before looking up at the doctor's eyes.

"I... sir?"

"Yes, Mekeke?" he replied coolly, his finger brushing the button almost like a pet.

"What's your name...?"

The doctor seemed caught off guard; and, in truth, had he ever told the aliens his name?

He laughed a bit and smiled, and it made Mekeke a little uneasy.

"Do you think I owe you that answer, just because of what I do?"

"No sir," Mekeke said quietly, looking down again, fearing a jolt of some sort. "I was just... wondering."

"Wonder later. What's your planet's name?"

"That is... complicated."

"Oh?" Now the doctor looked intrigued, if just a bit. His finger slipped off the button and he leaned forward, folding his arms and watching Mekeke intently. "Explain."

"See..." Mekeke looked up before biting his lip a bit again; a little blood broke free and he licked it off his lip, a little troubled at the bad habit he'd attained. "This planet we're on... what is it called?"

"Earth," he replied simply.

"My species call it Pekopon."

"Pekopon?" He was so intrigued; it was almost like teaching a fourth grade boy about the mechanics of cars.

"Yes. This is Pekopon... I was just... if we call _your_ planet by another name, it might be possible that our planet is known to you... but by a different name."

"So it's like a language barrier," the doctor said, nodding a bit, almost in understanding, and leaned back in his chair. "But then, Mekeke, why would it hurt to tell me?"

"It wouldn't," Mekeke insisted, finding himself able to talk to the Pekoponjin a little easier; now that he'd interested the man, he was a scientist again; not a tormentor. Mekeke was almost... _interested_ in the conversation. "I just wondered if Pekopon might be translated to Earth in one of your foreign or ancient languages."

"Huh... That's a good point," the man said slowly, nodding a bit. "Perhaps..."

"Then if you could discover which language, you could find the people, and then..." Now Mekeke's mind was whirling; what if Keronjin had already come to Pekopon and made friends? Had a peace treaty been formed, then forgotten over time? That would be horrible...

"Then what, Mekeke?"

And he was back to interrogating; the debate was over. It kind of disappointed Mekeke.

"I don't know," he said slowly. Carefully. "Maybe... we had come here before... and your kind had called the planet something else... long ago."

"Quite a possibility," he said, nodding a bit. His finger tapped the button lightly and Mekeke winced; he prayed he wouldn't tap it just a little too hard...

"A few more questions, Mekeke, and you can go."

He was more than startled, to say the least; normally these courses lasted hours, not minutes. But the debate might have given the man something to think about...

"Your planet's name."

Mekeke looked a bit pained but looked down and shut his eye a bit.

"...Keron," he mumbled finally, and the scientist nodded, typing it in.

"C or K?"

"K. K-E-R-O-N."

"Keron... alright. And your species...?"

"Keronjin."

"And we are Pekopon, and Pekoponjin."

"Yes."

"Hm..."

_Similar,_ Mekeke thought abruptly, almost reading the word on the mans face. _The species names are smiliar..._

He shook his head and his mask tilted a bit, now askew, his vision cut off a bit. He blew up on the mask and felt the cool air on his eye, sighing and watching the man again.

"One more then, I suppose," he said and stood up with the screen, walked to Mekeke's side, and let his finger hover over the button

Mekeke tensed; this was the big question... he knew it.

"Where... is Keron?"

Mekeke remained silent, merely tensed himself and shut his eye tightly, turning his head away from the Pekoponjin. There was a long silence, a low sigh, and the sound of a button being pushed.

* * *

It appears the scientist isn't totally evil.

...or maybe he is XD

What IS his name? :C Don't ask me, I haven't decided yet. XD... or have I? D: dundundun... dun?

X3... Gurh.

Now then... time for an UPDATE. D8

I might... just MIGHT... Make a humungous fic out of this, instead of a simple torture-and-feed-sadism/sadists fling.

If I do, I might drag in the Garuru Shoutai...

w... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA *cough* GAH I think I'm getting a cold :C Damn it!

Also, sorry for late updates. Spring Break is keepin' me busy :3 but here you go~

Anyways, um... X3... that's it really.

Hope you enjoyed.


	9. Rhymes and Stings

Nurrrrrr. Finally home from Spring Break, woot, and everything is _not_ perfect. :D

I have this gunky infected thing in my ear, just around the lobe or w/e, and it was [censored for the caution that you ate recently and/or am eating] and then it was bleeding and it had a scab and it hurt and blargh...

Also, period. Not going into details, other than saying I get _cramp._ ...BADLY. D8

Next thing; Boy at school likes me. I don't like him. I pretend to be lesbian in order to avoid it. Ex-boyfriend knows truth (and is also going out with a good friend) and thinks what I'm doing is wrong. Complicated shit I try to avoid and will do so promptly by never sitting with them at lunch again. :3 Drama = bad irl.

And the rest crap is more personal and blargh. ENJOY MORE MEKEKE AND PUTATA.

* * *

The door opened and the florescent lights from the hall brightened the room, shedding light on the bruised, bleeding form against the wall opposite the door.

Putata stood against the wall unsteadily, not trusting himself to sit. Blood leaked from a few scratches and cuts on his arms and legs, and his ribs throbbed with a dull pain of either a crack of a bruise.

He had a slight limp on his left foot, unable to put too much pressure on the sprained ankle, and he was holding his right arm, where it hurt to move, just above the elbow.

A little blood stained his cheek, right below his eye, and there was some on his mouth, but he managed a weak smile when the door opened and shed light on his poor state.

The form in the doorway pushed a foot onto his partners back and pushed him in, sending in sprawling on the cold ground, a sharp, weak intake of breath coming from the downed form before the door slammed shut.

"Mekeke!"

Putata ran to his friend as well as he could, dropping onto his knees and wincing a bit at the pain but ignoring it, sliding his arms gently below Mekeke's stomach and rolling him onto his back slowly, pulling him into a laying position on his lap and brushing the mask to the side, fixing its uneven position.

There was a small cut under his eye, and a few small burnt patches on his arms, but his legs were the worse, it appeared.

They had deep, criss-crossing markings that Putata immediately filed under the Whip; it was a simple, medieval weapon, with approximately nine tails at the end and small, barbed, pointed arrowheads on the end of each one, all of them not an inch long, not a millimeter thick, but sharper than a knife.

Putata winced at the markings and leaned over his partner, touching his cheek and turning his head over, looking for any other marks on his face and finding none. His partner moaned in dismay and he shushed him softly, touching his lips with a finger.

"Mekeke... it's alright, I'm here. You're fine... I'll help, okay?..."

"Putata," Mekeke whimpered hoarsely, reaching up weakly and catching Putata's hand, cringing in pain. Putata grabbed the wrist lightly and turned the palm over, finding a single, deep line cut into his palm. He winced and brushed some dirt from the blood, feeling a little pale.

"Shh... you're alright... Mekeke..." Putata turned his partner and sat him up a bit, making him wince and exhale slowly. "You okay...?"

"Y... yeah," Mekeke whispered, his throat a little hoarse. "Fine... now..."

Putata smiled a bit and pulled his partner into a sitting position, leaning him against his own green arm and holding his opposite shoulder, using his other hand and taking the hem of Mekeke's smock in his hand, pulling it up and inspecting his stomach intensely.

There were a few deep marks from the Whip, one that looked pretty bad on the white of Mekeke's stomach, and still bleeding quite a bit. Putata leaned Mekeke against his own chest and felt Mekeke move with it, reaching up a bit and closing his hands around Putata's chest to make it easier to see his back.

Several dozen marks crossed Mekeke's back, and though some of them were bad, none as much so as the one on his stomach.

Putata let Mekeke lay on his back again, careful to keep his hands on the shoulders, where there were no marks, thankfully.

"I need to take this off, alright?" he murmured and Mekeke nodded faintly, seeming distant. "Don't sleep Mekeke... Not yet. Stay with me."

"Mm," Mekeke mumbled in complaint but, a moment later, his eye fluttered open, unfocused, and he looked up at Putata, seeming a bit dazed.

"Good... stay awake, alright? I need to take off your smock..."

"Uh-huh," Mekeke mumbled and sat up a bit, wincing but letting his hands slide down to support himself, leaning back on his arms.

Putata took the hem of the smock and pulled it up Mekeke's chest, careful of all the wounds and pulling it up over the other's mask, making him shut his eye in the process with the cloth skimmed his eyelid. He hugged Mekeke to his chest and slipped it off his arms now and sighed, letting it lay on the ground and just holding Mekeke tightly for a moment.

"What did they ask?" he asked quietly and stood up, still holding Mekeke, and slid an arm under Mekeke's legs, the other around his shoulders, and picked him up, startled when he remembered his sprained ankle and pained arm and wincing, ignoring them again.

"Coordinates," Mekeke mumble, seeming a little disoriented.

"Bastards..." Putata walked slowly over to their wall, right across from the door, which seemed to be the warmest for some reason, and knelt there, laying Mekeke against the wall in a sitting position, much like he had been forced in to when they decided to give his legs a few hard kicks.

"Wait here, alright?" he mumbled and Mekeke nodded a bit, distantly. "No sleeping, no reaping," Putata reminded him and Mekeke smiled a bit at the edges, feeling Putata tap his invisible nose and opening his eye a bit, seeing Putata smile lightly down at him.

"You haven't rhymed since we got here," Mekeke said, almost complaining, and Putata laughed a short resonance.

"I just did," he said and stood up, making his way slowly over to the door and sighing when he got there, knocking a few times. "Bandages..."

"Hm?"

The little two-inch tall, foot wide door at the bottom of the door slid open. "What's that?"

"Bandages," Putata repeated. He would have added something snarky at the end to piss them off, but Mekeke needed the treatment.

"Antibiotics?"

"Please," Putata sighed and the two things were slid under the door. He gathered them and walked back to Mekeke, picking up the smock on the way there and kneeling next to him.

He spun the cap off the antibiotics, not bothering to read what kind it was, and felt the cotton ball inside, sighing in relief. It was at least the good stuff...

"It's going to sting," Mekeke mumbled crossly, but he didn't mind.

"Yup," Putata said, pushing the cotton ball against the opening and tilting the bottle, feeling the cotton ball dampen slightly before setting the bottle down and leaning over, dabbing the soaked cotton along the deepest wound. Mekeke gasped and arched his back a bit, shutting his eye tightly. Putata fret only a bit, knowing himself how much it stung, and took Mekeke's hand, feeling the other's grip tighten a little painfully on his own. He waited slowly and, gradually, the other's grip loosened and he started breathing again, carefully.

"Better...?" Putata ventured, smiling a bit. Mekeke opened his eye and turned to glare at him before smiling tiredly.

"Oh so much."

* * *

Short & Crappy. Hope you enjoyed~


	10. His Own Infirmary

Time to start mixing things up a bit in accommodation of order.

Also... nine chapters? Whew. Tenth on the waaaaay~... Also containing more info on SOMETHING that SOMEONE wanted. *winkwinkhintBLARGH*

COMMENCA CHAPTA NIEN.

* * *

"GAH..."

"Well...?"

"G...Gh.... fuck.... you.... AHH!!"

Yukiki jerked away from the torch, breathing hard, his arms slashed with deep markings and cuts, bleeding quite severely, and he couldn't even move them anymore without sending stabs of stinging pain into his helmet. He glared hatefully at the thick candle, his arms limp at his sides and still staining the ground with blood, panting from pain and exertion.

"A few simple coordinates, 988. Are you going to tell us?"

"NO," he shouted, and screamed again when the scientist jabbed the torch right into his chest, the snow melting quickly around the fire, making him thrash frantically, his breathing made laborious, his snow twitching in the agony of the flames licking around inside of his hollowing body.

"Tell us," the scientist glowered, and Yukiki could only scream again in dismay and pain, slamming himself back against the wall in a vain attempt to escape the flames.

"I think that's enough Dr. Hallorann," Dr. Estell said, and he stood up with the torch in his hands, turning to glare at her.

"Speaking out of turn, Dr. Estell?"

"No sir," she said respectfully. Yukiki had crumbled to the ground and was now sitting back against the wall, low choked off sobs bubbling up in his throat as well as melted snow and moans of pain. "I meant, your other meeting is nearly here. Your one O'clock, with the scientists from Terraforce?"

"Ah..." He stood up straight and handed the torch off to one of the guards, who extinguished it and put it away from later use and reference. "Then, I must be off. You will take care to bring him back, correct, Dr. Estell?"

"By all means, sir," she replied, and he nodded, giving the trainee a _follow me_ glance and walking out, the guards following.

Dr. Estell walked to Yukiki and folded her coat below her legs, crouching next to him. He sat, glaring hatefully at the ground, breathing hard, little tears in his eyes, the painful, tugging heat that lingered in his chest still hurting him. "Are you alright?"

"Whh..." Yukiki took a few deep breaths, unable to speak. He just shook his head, realizing that his vocal chords were probably damaged.

Or, his equivalent...

"Come on," she said quietly and held her hand out. Yukiki glared at it and turned his head away rudely, shutting his eyes and blocking her out, refusing to touch her quite bluntly.

_Disgusting creatures,_ he thought weakly, his heart (equivalent) beating hard and fast, hurting almost.

He felt gentle hands wrap around his arms and he jerked in pain and shock until he was abruptly airborne, looking up and see Dr. Estell holding him. She slipped an arm under his legs and let him lay down across her arms, her other supporting his back. He would have flushed in anger, had it not been for his makeup; he couldn't, not would. It would melt him, inevitably.

"I'm taking you to your infirmary," she said simply and he turned his head away, glaring at the ground, unable to stop the little tremors that made him tremble a bit every once in a while. She carried him through the empty halls, and they didn't pass a single person.

_Thank Keron,_ he thought, and winced a bit when she shifted her arm a bit to pull the door open and stepped in.

A gleaming, white room, it had a freezer in one corner, special antifreeze anesthetics and several dozen other things that they had discovered worked for him as painkillers.

His own damn infirmary.

She set him on the table and he sat there, staring at the ground, feeling dizzy and shutting his eyes and trying to steady himself.

"Hey!"

He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the wall, startled. He looked up and saw Dr. Estell, realizing he was in her arms again and glaring, a bit confused.

"What?" he mumbled as she set him back on the table and brushed her hand under his helmet.

"You fell," she said, and he started. _No I didn't,_ he thought, but then wondered, _did I?..._

"You have a fever," she sighed, and he blinked, startled.

"I'm a snowman," he replied flatly, and she smiled, amused almost.

"And now, you're a snowman with a fever... Dr. Hallorann would want to run some tests..." Yukiki grimaced, feeling a dark pit of fear and resent rise inside of him. Whatever sick tests the scientist would come up with, Yukiki knew they would inevitably be painful. It seemed all the doctors here were sadistic on some level; they all loved the painful tests, interrogations, and the like...

"But I don't tell him if you won't."

He looked up, shocked now, and stared at her. "You... you won't?"

"Nah," she said, and smiled, petting his head lightly and making him scowl at bit, though he couldn't hide his disbelief and... relief, inevitably.

"...Why are you so nice?" he asked, finally getting it off his shoulders. It had bugged him for such a long time, he couldn't take it any more. It was almost infuriating, but she was still so kind.

She seemed surprised by the question and smiled.

"Why not?" she replied and stood up, walking across the room and pulling open his fridge, looking through it. "I think the antifreeze would help," she said absently, pulling out the small bottle and examining it.

"You could just make me a new body," he murmured, watching her with more curiosity than before. She almost insisted on helping him, and it was... mildly confusing, to say the least.

"I could," she said, standing up straight with a syringe of antifreeze in her grasp, inspecting the needle. "They'll notice the antifreeze's absence, so it would be the same if they noticed the snow's absence, right?"

"They don't use... self-destruct snow... do they?" he asked, leaning towards him a bit and finally feeling the effects of the fever; he was actually blushing a bit, or it looked like it; he was just flushed. "I mean... you change my snow all the time. Is there something...?" His face held all the worry. She smiled.

"No self-destruct snow," she replied, walking over with the antifreeze and turning his head away by his chin, making him lift his head a bit to at least help, though being inconspicuous about it. She smiled at his attempt to look away, knowing full well he had a slight fear of their needles. Well, after Dr. Hallorann had put that acid in his body and made it run a course through his veins, tied to a chair so he couldn't thrash around hard enough to knock his helmet free from the agonizing pain.........

She shook her head and focused, sliding the needle in carefully before injecting the antifreeze. "If it doesn't work, we'll get you a new body formed, alright?" she said, smiling, and stood up straight, letting his hand drift to where she'd given him the shot and rubbing it unconsciously. It was a kind of habit for him now.

"Sure," he mumbled, shutting his eyes and feeling the antifreeze make its cool, refreshing way through his body. It was a relief. "...Thanks," he said finally, looking away, a bit embarrassed at thanking a Pekoponjin.

"Don't worry about it," she said, putting the needle away and taking off her gloves. "I have to make sure all my patients are healthy."

"I meant... for everything," he admit carefully, not meeting her eyes when she glanced over curiously. "For... this. And before, in the... lab... and Robobo... _Especially_ for Robobo."

She smiled a bit, walking over and putting a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up, looking sheepish and irritated. Why couldn't she just leave him alone? He'd embarrassed himself for her, hadn't he? To thank her, and now...

"I'm glad to have a bit of your trust," she said simply and he blinked, staring at her. Everything went a bit fuzzy and he blinked a few times, trying to focus his eyes.

"Dr... Estell?" He had never used her name before, and it started him to hear himself saying it. He glanced up, bleary-eyed, and saw her like she were at the end of a tunnel. The realization hit him hard; she'd drugged him.

"Why," he mumbled, blinking a few more times before everything tilted harshly to one side and he fell over, everything going black.

* * *

Betrayal?

Maaaaaybe...

Also, I just randomly felt like giving Yukiki a fever. I'll probably end up writing a long story chapter about that, but for now it's just for fun. XD Hope you enjoyed~


	11. Memory Drives

What what? Such a quick update? Why yes.

Now, I normally have several chapters done beforehand, but I've been a lazy douche and I only have this, Chapter 11 and Chapter 12 done... well, Chapter 12 is a WIP... but it's coming along well.

Anyways, here, you get your first real-life look at... dundundun?

_WTF HAPPENED AT THE CORPS MANSION!!_

_WHOOOOOOOOOOOSH._

Yeah, hope you enjoy this. XD

* * *

The steady rumbling of machinery could be heard around his body, reverberating off his metal form and making him vibrate slightly. His eyes flickered a bit before dimming again and smiting his bit of hope.

He parted his mechanical lips carefully, moving his magnet-like hands slowly and trying to take a step, unable to feel his legs. There was a long pause, a moment of motionless, before his balance was compromised and he fell over with a loud _crash_, his mechanics inside jarring and sending a few sloppily-fixed pieces flying inside of him. Laying on his side/front, he shivered when one of his nerve-clusters fell and he managed to flicker one eye on, seeing darkness around him.

A single word escaped his echoing throat, seeming to ricochet off the empty room's walls;

"Yu.... ki.... ki..."

The name made a small blip appear in his system and he located it quickly, pulling up his memory drives, a small flashing picture of the mansion on it, looking at it confusedly. He didn't remember filing this memory away; it was foreign. A virus, maybe, planet by the odd people who had come in and strewn his pieces about so he couldn't function properly.

But something about the memory made him want to open it; it had Yukiki's symbol above it. That meant _Yukiki_ had filed it, manually, inside of him.

...

He let his consciousness dwindle until he was focusing solely on the memory before opening it, letting the video feed that his eyes had on at all times bringing him his lost memory...

"Come on, you pile of rubble!"

He turned and saw Yukiki, blinking at his partner's frustrated expression. "Watase, where?"

"Inside, dim-bulb! I'm starved, and it's Giruru's turn to cook. He's making some Pekopon delicacy or other, and if anything, these people know how to eat. Come _on!_"

"Coming, watase!" He quickly went to his scowling partner's side, giving him an apologetic glance that dashed the scowl and replaced it with a startled look. Yukiki sighed and shook his head.

"You're too... young for your own good," he said, settling on the not-so-descriptive term.

"Watase. One year."

Yukiki stared at him for a long time before smacking his face ((/facepalm LOL)).

"Let's go," he said again irritably, grabbing his magnetic hand and dragging him towards the mansion. He followed easily, willing to do anything for Yukiki; he was his partner, and he really respected the snowman. He treated him well enough...

Yukiki hadn't known that he'd be paired with practically his complete _opposite_ when joining Shurara; he'd been adamant about ignoring the junk-heap until he was assigned a new partner. But...

The robot had somehow grown on him; it had these little innocent, confused looks that made him feel... almost guilty.

And he _never_ felt guilty. He was a snowman for Keron sake! How could he feel anything but cold? But he did, all because of his partner... Whether Shurara had foreseen, planned or been oblivious to this fact, he had managed to make Yukiki a more social and relatively kinder member of the Corps.

All thanks to a pile of rubble...

Yukiki despised showing his emotions so, when he could, he made fun of the robot. Only his partner knew this was in such kind terms; he could see that little glint of passion in the snowman's eye when he was being teased for fun, or the attempt of covering his flustered self by making fun of him. He always accepted the jests fairly, but sometimes they hurt. When Yukiki saw it hurt him, he winced, and that made the robot feel a bit guilty; he shouldn't show so much emotions, especially not hurt.

Later, Yukiki normally apologized. In private, of course, but it meant a lot to the robot...

"Robobo, look out!"

He looked up, blinking, before one of his circuits suddenly shut down. He gave a sharp yelp and fell back, his right eye going black before his left was suddenly met with the sky, having fallen back. He started to stand immediately before whatever had shattered his right eye pinned him to the ground, leaving his head to static sporadically, stunned.

There was a huge gust of cold wind and he knew they were under attack; nobody would hurt Robobo permanently, with a weapon to the head, and Yukiki would most _definitely _not retaliate with such a strong attack.

"Watase!" He grabbed whatever was in his head, a long shaft visible from his left eye, and pulled himself free of the apparent spear, standing quickly and looking around quickly, spotting his partner in the grass, looking shell-shocked, his left arm and shoulder gone in a clean-looking slash.

"Yukiki!"

He stared in horror at his partner before he felt a hard jolt behind him and went sprawling, sensing a circuit explode in his head and knowing immediately it was a part of his sensory input.

"Robobo– GAH!"

He looked up in time to see the Pekoponjin lash out with a sword at Yukiki; it was clad in a black shirt and pants, a gray belt around its waist and a gray X over its torso, gray stitch-like armor on his shoulders, elbows, waists and knees. It had a black mask on, with a rectangular hole for its eyes, and a mechanical-looking visor below the mask.

The blade was wicked-looking, sharp and long, looking even worse as it slashed through Yukiki's retreating body, managing to get a good inch or so deep into his chest before he fell back onto his rear end, still looking blankly shocked, breathing hard.

"Yukiki, run!"

He scrambled to his feet and activated his one program, eyes glowing bright green, magnets both glowing before he lifted them into the air.

"Roboroboroboroborobo..."

His magnets flashed once, a flash blinding most of the Pekoponjins as well as Yukiki, swallowing the entire field in white.

He ran to Yukiki's side, kneeling and helping his blind friend to his feet, stopping him from stumbling and falling again, being the only one able to see in the whiteness.

"Robobo, w-we have to... get inside," Yukiki gasped, still looking worn. It hurt Robobo to see his partner in such a state.

"Watase... forest."

"What...?"

"Forest!"

He pulled Yukiki towards the forest just as an explosion rocked the mansion, blowing out the western wing. _Kagege's wing..._

"Forest, yeah," Yukiki said, panting as they ran towards it together.

"Stop them!!"

Robobo stopped just prior the forest, pushing Yukiki the last few steps before whirling around in time to see another spear fly through the air, tearing through his chest and stabbing into the ground behind him. He managed to stay standing, thanks to the angle of the spear, but he was still stunned from the depth of the attack. He quickly grasped the weapon, pulling himself free before fleeing after Yukiki.

He'd seen the affect his attack had done to the Pekoponjins within range; they'd all turned into odd-looking machines, looking shocked in their new forms. The ones on the roof hadn't been within range, but they also couldn't make chase. Not yet.

"Robobo," Yukiki said, catching his friends magnet hand. Robobo tugged him deeper and they started running again, both bewildered and confused. "Robobo, what happened?"

"West wing blew out, watase. Kagege's wing. Other men in the windows, all armed, aiming at Yukiki... watase..."

"It's alright," Yukiki said, still breathing a bit unevenly. "Come on, we have to get out of here..."

"Watase." He wasn't about to argue about Yukiki's safety; once his partner was safe, however, he would return alone for the others.

It didn't appear they'd have a chance; the clearing they came to suddenly went up in an explosion, making Yukiki and Robobo cry out in unison and go flying in opposite directions.

When he landed, it jarred his broken body, though since half of his sensory input was null, he hardly felt it. He scrambled to his feet, feeling the burns all over his body and fretting dearly about Yukiki's state.

He could see his partner sprawled on his stomach, breathing hard, snow black here and there, though still conscious, if barely.

"Yukiki!"

His partner's head lifted slowly, his eyes dazed. Robobo felt so badly for not being able to save him better than this, he was mortal!

Yukiki's eyes widened and Robobo knew he was in danger even before his partner cried, "Robobo!"

He felt the sharp pain in his head even before he had a chance to turn, his other eye flickering, almost going out but saving itself just before he fell limply to the ground, his motion input shattered as well as his vocal and reaction circuits. It would take Shurara forever to fix him.....

"Robobo," Yukiki panted, looking dismayed at his partner. His friend, laying on his front motionlessly, just a clearing away, burnt and full of holes the swiss cheese...

He grabbed the ground, pulling himself closer to Robobo, unable to catch his breath from the motion and shutting his eyes tightly. He had to get to him. Had to...

He didn't know, but he had to get there. He hardly managed to drag himself to within half a foot of Robobo before more shadows walked out of the clearing, headed right to them.

Forcing back little tears of loss and pain, Yukiki reached out, touching Robobo's shoulder and pushing him over with a last bit of strength. He jerked the plate off and quickly typed into the keypad there, breathing hard. He quickly saved Robobo's memories of the moments, not sure if the robot could do it for himself now, wondering dismally if he would ever get a chance to review the memories... Oh, he hoped so...

Save File.

Saving...

Saving....

Saving.....

Memory File Saved to Internal Memory.

He shut his eyes, breathing hard, even as shadows stood over them. He felt a boot in his side and gasped, being rolled over onto his back, finding himself staring up at the cool eyes of a Pekoponjin, eyes behind a pair of glasses instead of a mask.

He glared, his voice wavering as he weakly cursed, "damned... Pekoponjin...!"

The face smiled down at him.

"Disgusting monsters."

He felt a hard shock and cried out, his entire body going through a long series of spasms before everything faded into black.

That's where his memories stopped. They hurt him, and he felt numb. His memories had stopped after Yukiki had fainted, since Yukiki was his only other guide in the universe.

Technically, he was connected to the whole Platoon, but he hadn't been "watching" them at the time, so he couldn't call upon the memories. He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to.

Besides that drive, he remembered being subjected to several torments that had racked his body in pain, the Pekoponjins trying to get information. Then they'd tortured Yukiki, and he'd snapped and... attacked, he supposed. When in such a rage, he couldn't remember precise details.

He'd woken up and...

He twitched at the next thought, coming back to consciousness. He'd been dismembered... and, obviously, that's where his memories got bad. He could remember Yukiki's voice...

The chip he'd input on Yukiki's helmet would explain that. It was a sole link between the two partners that Robobo had created, just for the reason of making sure Yukiki was always, _always_ safe.

Although, that didn't really apply now, did it?...

He lowered his arms and pushed himself up slowly, eye flickering. A light came on behind him and he started to react before crashing to the ground again, letting his eye close again. Whatever they wanted, dismemberment or torture, he couldn't stop them this time. Not this time...

"Hello, Robobo," a smooth voice whispered and he saw a Pekoponjin crouch in front of him, a hand taking his arm. He struggle to flail away and failed weakly, being carefully position in a sitting position. He kept his head low, eyes trained on the ground, legs bent a bit so his feet touched, hands limp between his knees. He didn't look up. "...Come on Robobo. I'm not going to hurt you." He didn't react. "...I'm the one who requested your reassemblement."Still nothing. "...I'm fixing up a meet for you and Yukiki." He looked up now, looking blankly at her, though inside, his thoughts were flying. _Yukiki... Yukiki... _That's all that mattered; Yukiki's safety.

"...Doctor... Estell, watase." He recognized her now; she was the one who had fought so adamantly against his and Yukiki's joint-torture session... and his dismemberment.

She smiled, please at being remembered. "Yes," she said, and she held a hand out towards him. "The scientists here are cruel... I'll take you to my own office. We can get you fixed up a bit better before your meet with Yukiki today."

"Yukiki..." Robobo looked down, more excited than it showed to be able to see Yukiki so soon after achieving consciousness. _Yukiki..._

_

* * *

_

Not much to say P: Hope you enjoyed.

On a side note...

Doesn't anybody say goodbye anymore? :X


	12. The Knight's Move

If you see any weird symbol-thingies, like a box with four little letters in it... it's FF being a bitch. Just pretend it's 3 dots ("..." as an example XD) and move on. XD.

MOVING RIGHT ALONG.

Yes... so much background stories. It continues in the next chapter. xD Cause I'm a bitch. Also, use the other long-line thingie as translation from present to past. I normally go from Times New Roman to Arial for that, but yah, FF and all. XD AND...

* * *

Gyororo leaned back weakly on the wall, hugging himself tightly and rocking a bit. He had to keep a firm grasp on reality... the painful, heart-racing, nerve-wracking reality than so wanted to cast him into a dark abyss of insanity.

The easy way out...

He held tight to the one thing that was the last good memory he had of Nuii; the last time they'd been just... normal. Alone, no less, but normal. Even though the thought always led to the more painful memories, it was all he had.

He lowered his head a bit, now the equivalent of shutting his eyes; he couldn't keep the empty sockets open, he realized, or dust got in... and hurt...

_Focus._

It was so hard to focus now... blind...

He shook his head and struggled to stay on the right track, trying to remember... exactly... what.... happened...

* * *

"Come on Gyororo..."

"This is stupid!"

He stood up quickly, knocking the chair he had been sitting on onto its back, glaring down hatefully at the chess board with all his red eyes.

The room they were sitting in was Nuii's, or one of the ones he slept in normally. It had a little bed in the corner, behind Gyororo and to his left, and a window at it's foot to his side. More on Nuii's side of the room was a wardrobe, and the wall behind Nuii had nothing but painting that he'd found in the mansion. To Gyororo's right, Nuii's sitting left, was simply a door leading to the hall.

"I still don't even get why you want me to learn this game... there are too many _rules!_ This can only move like that, that can only attack like that... I can attack however I hell I feel!" He punched the air for emphasis, grinning a wide, fanged grin, all eyes set determinedly on the roof.

Nuii fidgeted, looking down at the chess board that was set on the lonely table in the middle of the room. Trying to teach Gyororo a game that involved so much concentration, memorization and... well, sitting still... it wasn't easy.

But if he couldn't, who could?

"Please Gyororo," he said, looking up at his once-more simmering partner, who was glaring down at the board cross-armed, eyes with a look of unease and anger. He didn't understand it, so he hated it. Almost... feared it. Feared that he wasn't smart enough to comprehend it, so he wanted to blast it. Simple. Nuii recognized that and stood, waving his arms in a desperate attempt to avoid the conflict. Besides, this chess board was precious to him; he had found it in the attic, all smudged and paint-scratched and chipped all over, and he'd mended it. One thing he was good at was mending; he'd fixed the wood with glue and tape, almost invisible now, and painted it again, giving it an almost new look.

After fixing the board, he'd ventured back, searching for the pieces. He'd only found the black ones, and he'd fret over that just a bit before deciding; he'd make his own white pieces.

He'd gotten Dokuku to help him cut a tree outside and cut it into little cubes before carving with a knife he'd borrowed from the kitchen, being very delicate of his own material, even cutting himself a few times and having to borrow his sewing kit from Gyororo's room.

His partner refused to let Nuii keep it in his own room, forcing him to leave it in Gyororo's custody so he could easily monitor whenever Nuii needed to use the sewing kit, and for what reasons. He said it was so he could take note how much training Nuii would need, and to tease him about being weak...

But when they were alone, and Nuii needed it, he never teased him once, or even commented on it when they went training; he just asked what the fuck Nuii had done this time, and Nuii always said he caught his hand on a nail or tripped and torn it on the stairs. Gyororo always gave him an uncertain disbelieving look, but always gave it to him anyways. He always sewed himself, and had once even taught Gyororo how to sew, in case he was ever slashed deeply enough to need stitches. That's why Gyororo said he wanted to learn; Nuii suspected he was always worrying about the little doll... not that he would admit it.

He'd carved, painted, and perfected the white pieces, after a long few months, and finally, he was done.

Alas, nobody would play with him...

Kagege knew how, but being Shurara's right-hand man, he was... well, needless to say, busy. As was Giruru, who knew the basic rules of Chess. Putata kind of knew, but always ended up making Nuii giggle and trying to mess up the pieces on the board to make interesting shapes. Mekeke knew, but didn't enjoy playing much. Everyone else drew a blank on playing.

So, teaching Gyororo was his last resort; convincing Mekeke had proved... difficult.

"You can do it, Gyororo," Nuii said, looking up at him with begging eyes. "Please?"

He looked pleadingly at Gyororo and, finally, the seven eyes reverted to their small partner, staring at him for a long minute before softening, although only Nuii would recognize the affection in the look; they still looked hard and a bit angry, but he saw it.

"Fine," Gyororo huffed and plopped down bitterly, arms still crossed, glaring at the chess board, though focusing now. "So... these things, the knights... they can only move like what?"

"An "L" shape," Nuii said for the third time that day, moving his own three forward and one to the right once more. "You can move it any way, three forward then one to the side."

"So..."

Gyororo moved his forward one and to the right three times. "Does that count...?" He looked hesitant, not wanting to look stupid, but Nuii smiled.

"It does," he said, and Gyororo stared at the board before nodding.

"I'll... keep that move."

"Alright," Nuii said and looked over his pieces for a moment before moving his own knight out of hiding and putting it in front of one of his pawns. Gyororo examined the move with a critical eye before looking back to his own, his fingers touching the bishop and hesitating. "Diagonal," Nuii said and Gyororo nodded, remembering, and moved it halfway across the board. Nuii smiled a bit, seeing a look of deep concentration on Gyororo's features. He knew Gyororo would enjoy this game, once he understood it; and aside from that, he needed to learn strategy, aside from barging in and blasting everything down.

"Check," Nuii said, moving his queen diagonal a few spaces and stopping next to Gyororo's bishop; now he paid attention to how Gyororo would act. He could see a pawn right behind his partner's bishop, so it could take his queen out... but he had to let Gyororo remember.

Gyororo stared at the board, trying so hard to think of a way to get rid of that queen; that damned threat. In real life he could just shoot her down if she threatened Shurara, no problem. But...

If he were blindfolded or something, then maybe strategy _would _come in convenient. Especially if he could only see right in front of himself instead of beside and behind and everything. Shooting would be hard, too... and aiming—

He blinked and stared harder, suddenly remembering something. All these pieces had what he had called _handicaps_, only being able to do stupid little things and being almost totally restricted. But...

He suddenly clicked and grabbed the pawn, pushing Nuii's queen out of the way before snatching it away. He glanced at Nuii uncertainly, thinking maybe he'd gotten it wrong and they could only _move_ diagonal, not attack, but

He could see Nuii's little smile aside from his frozen features, see the pride in teaching Gyororo such a fun and complex game, see the happiness that Nuii had from seeing Gyororo work so hard

And he could also see the black-claden Pekoponjin on the other side of the room, knife drawn, watching them; it had a black shirt and pants, a gray belt around its waist and a gray X over its torso, gray stitch-like armor on his shoulders, elbows, waists and knees. It had a black mask on, with a rectangular hole for its eyes, and a mechanical-looking visor below the mask.

Nuii saw the change in Gyororo's face immediately, mainly because of two things;

One, Gyororo hardly smiled. And when he'd seen the approval and nod Nuii had given him, he had smiled. A small, weak, grateful smile and not humiliating himself; one with no malice or sadism of masochism or anything.

Two, he just _knew_ Gyororo.

He jumped up and whirled around in time with Gyororo, almost like a practiced duet, and saw the Pekoponjin make a dash at him. He threw his arm up instinctively and shot a barrage of needles at the charging assassin, stunning him before a huge plume of smoke hid him from view and revealed him shortly after as a small, harmless plushie on the ground.

Gyororo whirled around to check the rest of the room, finding nothing but the window open until an explosion blew out the wall right behind him, making him cry out and fly back into the chess table, breaking the board in half and toppling over, dazed.

Smoke billowed into the room, Pekoponjins marching in quickly like a small army, all armed, soon circling the two of them. Nuii grabbed Gyororo's arm and helped him to his feet, both turning and pressing their backs together automatically, scanning their opponents.

Gyororo grinned.

"Looks like we have a new kind of game on our hands," he said, and Nuii nodded. "One I'm quite familiar with."

"We have to see Shurara," Nuii said. "We might not be the only ones targeted; what if there's more?"

"Alright. Main objective, beat some ass and find Shurara. Ready?"

"Yeah."

They both leaned against each other a bit, crouching slightly, Gyororo's seven eyes all going over the Pekoponjin barrier around them.

"Go."

Nuii aimed at those in front of him, Gyororo to their sides and in front of himself, and both started firing at the same time.

Gyororo took down seven right off the mark, all of them falling back, stunned if not dead, his aim dead-on as always. He didn't want to kill them all; save some for interrogation.

Nuii managed to turn eight of them into plush toys before they realized and started producing shields, some of them slower in catching on than others, and he quickly aimed for those ones, turning them before they knew he was aiming at them.

Gyororo managed another fourteen until they all snapped into it and started firing back. He cursed at his inability to get more down before having to get defensive, but was content with his score. He shot at seven of the blasts fired at them, knocking them off course and firing another seven in quick succession, aiming for those who had fired.

He knocked for back, two hit in the chest and dead before they hit the ground, the other two looking for wounds on themselves frantically.

He grinned as they both looked up and took aim at him again along with the other three, five of them aiming at him. He fired at three, aiming his other four eyes at weaponless, still-startled infantrymen.

The two who had left his shots apparently unscathed were slow in realizing they hadn't fired, even more slow before they saw the sparks jumping from their weapons and they exploded, sending showers of sparks and fire licking at those around them, making several scream in surprise, pain and fear.

He laughed, firing at the ones near those two, taking eighteen out before his final distraction.

"_No!"_

His eyes widened and his firing halted as he whirled around, looking right up into the dark face of a masked Pekoponjin, Nuii in his arms, thrashing around desperately, kicking his legs and flailing his arms, eyes shut tightly in a vain attempt to free himself from the Pekoponjin hugging him to his chest with one arm, aiming a gun at his head with the other.

"Let him go!" he barked, stepping back and aiming at the Pekoponjin, shooting one of his legs out and making him shout in pain, legs crumpling under him, arms releasing Nuii, who jumped free and stumbled, falling against Gyororo and sending them both sprawling onto the latter.

"Sorry," Nuii said, scrambling to his feet only to yelp when someone grabbed his tail and wrenched him into the air. He spun around in their grasp, aiming his hands at their startled face before another pair of hands grabbed his arms, pulling them in opposite directions and making him yelp again in startled pain, two seams snapping quietly in his shoulders. Gloves were forced onto his hands and tied tightly, being attached to one another with threads until all three cried out and dropped him, each with their own new wound to tend to.

Gyororo caught Nuii this time, setting him on his feet and grabbing his wrist, staring at the glove before starting to pull at it quickly, sensing more men coming in.

"That won't be necessary any longer," a voice said and he whirled around, standing in front of Nuii protectively since his partner could no longer defend himself. Nuii struggled with the gloves in a vain attempt to pull off the traps, hiding behind Gyororo as he did so.

"How would you put it, exactly...? Resistance is futile?"

"Pekoponjin!" Gyororo snapped, glaring at him, eyes all charged and ready to fire at the lab-coat wearing Pekopon-dweller. "What are you doing here!?"

"We're removing a threat from our planet," he replied briskly, walking forward, showing no fear of Gyororo's guns. He stepped back, forcing Nuii back a bit before stepping forward and standing straight, the two eyes on his hat flaps glowing brighter.

"Take another step," Gyororo growled quietly, and the scientist paused. "I dare you."

"I'm sure," the scientist replied, smirking a bit. Gyororo growled and fired.

"Wait, no!"

Nostalgia had terrible times at showing up. The scientist slid a hand out of his pocket, holding it in front of him, the reflective item startled Gyororo badly, making him freeze, seeing his own weapons reflected in the mirror before they bounced off, right towards him.

"Gyororo!"

Nuii shouldered his endangered, frozen partner out of the way, stumbling a step at the effort before getting knocked back off his feet, landing hard on his back with a wound in his left shoulder and another in his stomach.

"_Nuii!_" Gyororo scrambled to his feet and ran to Nuii's side, staring at him in numb shock before crouching and pulling him onto his feet carefully, his heart beating hard at Nuii's stunned appearance. "Nuii, can you speak?"

"Yes," he murmured softly, taking a slow, deep breath. "Need the sewing kit... Gyororo... Tripped on the stairs..."

Gyororo stared at him before standing and helping him to his feet, pulling Nuii to lean against him before turning to glare at the still-smiling scientist.

"Move," he growled, one hand on Nuii's shoulder, the other wrapping around his back. "Or I'll make you."

"Oh? Like you just tried to eliminate me?" Gyororo winced. "We know all of your weaknesses. Your partner, gloves. Yours, mirrors. Ironic really, that such simple weaknesses are assigned to supposed invaders."

_Invaders_, Gyororo thought, _so that's why he's here._

"You'll never beat our leader," Gyororo snarled, holding Nuii closer when he saw another soldier step forward and thrust a hat-flap up, eye glowing before firing at the daring soldier, sending him into the wall, dazed.

"That's what one of them said about you," the scientist mused and Gyororo wavered. One of them...

"Who else?" Gyororo growled quietly, hat-flap eyes scanning all the soldiers, the ones on his forehead and stomach following suit, his tail watching behind him as well as Nuii, only his normal eyes glaring at the scientists, the supposed leader.

"One with a title of puppetry and the other of art."

_Mekeke and Putata._ It wasn't hard to label the Shurara Corps...

"You didn't beat them," Gyororo said simply, looking a bit stunned. _Said. Say._ He meant the present tense, not the past; Pekoponjins were so stupid.

"Of course we did," the scientist said, looking appalled at the thought of losing before grinning. "Just like we beat you."

"No!" Gyororo pulled Nuii against himself before dashing to the door, shooting down four soldiers than tried to stop them before ramming his shoulder into the door, knocking it open and sliding to a stop in the hall.

"_Gyororo, down!"_

He ducked instinctively at the familiar voice, keeping Nuii close to him as a Pekoponjin flew over his head and past him in the hall, towards Mekeke's room. He spun around and saw Kagege, surrounded by flame-like shadows billowing around him like seaweed, several dozen Pekoponjin surrounding him, all attempting to get to him and being either stabbed, knocked back or thrown before they could get close enough to even touch him.

Several others were farther back, fighting their own shadows, looking bewildered.

"What's going on!?" Gyororo demanded, standing and holding the weakening Nuii closer to himself, feeling the other start to lean on him more.

"What does it look like!?" Kagege shouted, whirling around and sending another shadow to throw a man over the stairs before turning and running across the hall, shadows following behind him, stopping and blocking the door Gyororo had come out of with a barrier of shadows, assessing them both. "What happened?" he demanded, eye on Nuii. Gyororo grimaced.

"They shot me," Nuii panted, standing for himself a bit, watching Kagege with dazed, pained eyes. "I'm fine, really..."

"Alright," Kagege said and nodded, glancing back to check his barrier and the shadows taking care of the intruders before turning back to Gyororo and Nuii. "Listen; Mekeke and Putata are already in their custody." Both bit their tongues, nodding. "Dokuku came by and said everything was fine with him and Giruru, and he was headed to find Shurara."

"Us too," Gyororo said, and Kagege nodded.

"Go to Shurara's Chamber, and tell Yukiki and Robobo the same thing if you see them." Nuii and Gyororo both nodded. Kagege looked grave. "If you see them, don't talk. Just shoot and run Gyororo. Alright?"

"Yes sir," he said, not saluting because of his arms around Nuii.

"Good. Get to Shurara's Chamber, _now_. The stairs are safe, I made sure, and last I checked the front hall was swarming with them. Go through my dungeon."

"Alright," Gyororo said and they both nodded before Gyororo pulled Nuii closer, not letting him see if he could walk, and running to the stairs, dashing down two at a time. He could hear more shouts and new Kagege was holding them off from the stairs.

"Thanks," Gyororo panted, turning at the bottom of the stairs and running to the door there, throwing it open and running down the stairs that were presented past the doorway.

"Don't worry about that," Nuii said breathlessly, limping a bit, following quickly. "We have to find... Shurara."

"I know," Gyororo said, still tramping down the stairs, though one at a time, worried about Nuii now. Nuii caught his uncertain glance and smiled a bit.

"Don't worry about me," he said and started to stand for himself until Gyororo jerked him closer, glaring.

"You're not walking on your own," he snapped, "you'll slow me down."

Nuii knew it was just an act, so he wouldn't seem worried, but the fret in his eyes gave him away. Nuii smiled a bit but didn't fight anymore, going with him.

Once they reached the door Gyororo left him sitting (adamantly making him _sit_, not letting him stand) on the stairs, pulling the big metal door open before fetching him and walking in, turning on the lights and illuminating the big room.

Most of the torture things were just for show, a little hobby of Kagege's, but they still crept out Gyororo a bit. He ignored it, pushing away the knot in his stomach and hurrying Nuii across the room, slipping behind the huge lights that were currently off and pushing the door open.

"Aha!"

He met a boot, yelping and falling back, quickly rolling over on top of Nuii, kneeling over him in a protective way until another boot slammed into his back, making him gasp and topple off his startled partner. He whirled around into a crouch, all eyes glowing, a shot the bastard that had knocked him down, killing him almost instantly, standing quickly and jumping in front of the still-dazed Nuii.

"So you're the one who escaped Dr. Jazz."

He turned and glared hatefully up at the scientist that stepped out; he had shaggy sandy-blonde hair and glasses, and cold blue eyes that sent a shiver down Gyororo's spine. He ignored it.

"Whoever that bastard was," Gyororo snarled and took aim. The scientist smirked and held up his hand, which Gyororo had ignored, and he stiffened, expecting a mirror.

Worse.

Yukiki hung limply in the scientist's hand, being held up by the back of his neck, scores of burnt snow scattered over his body and helmet, eyes shut, unconscious.

"Shoot," the scientist urged, and Gyororo faltered, staring at his companion. He was vulnerable to any attack he _could_ put, but why would he? Not to get at the scientist, that was for sure. He'd find another way... "Come on. Shoot my legs, there's an idea." And a hell of an idea it was. Gyororo smirked and aimed at the legs, charging quickly and nearly shooting...

"Ah! Gyororo!!"

He nearly fell over with the cry, spinning around to find Nuii in the hands of another smirking scientist, unable to struggle thanks to his arms behind pinned behind his back, a knife hovering just over the material connecting his head and chest. Gyororo could almost picture little tears in the corners of his partner's eyes and had a sudden revelation; the one now holding Nuii wasn't a simple footsoldier like the one in the other room. He was trained better, a superior...

He lowered his hat flaps slowly, letting them discharged without, firing, and let his eyes slowly stop glowing, glaring up at the assassin hatefully before slowly turning to face the scientist again.

"...What do you want?" he growled softly, clenching his fists at his sides, bristling with hate. Even the sight of Yukiki's limp, helpless form made him want to stab the underdeveloped, dastardly, sick, disgusting, weak Pekoponjins...

"Just cooperation," the scientist said simply and he glared, fists shaking a bit.

"With... what...?" he growled through clenched fangs.

The scientist snapped his fingers and another soldier slipped out of the black behind him, setting a cage down and vanishing into the blackness. Gyororo stared at it for a long time, hate bubbling up slowly before he turned rage-filled eyes to the Pekoponjin again.

"You want me... to go... in that?" he hissed, fangs clenched tightly, ready to tear the bastard's eyes out.

"Yep," the scientist said, "and you will. Whether you want to... or not."

Gyororo glared, a bit confused. If he didn't want to, he wouldn't simple as that. If he did because of hostages, it meant he did want to; he didn't want them hurt more than he didn't want to go into the cage. Then...

"Gyororo, look out!"

Nuii's warning was a second too late, Gyororo's attempt at jumping out of the way dashed by the foot slamming into his back, just between his shoulder blades, and he crashed onto his front, doing a somersault and crashing into the end of the cage, dazing himself before starting to stand. He heard the cage slam shut behind him and his heart skipped a bit before he whirled around, grabbing the cages and spitting out a long string of curses at the scientist smirking down at him.

Yukiki was handed off to another soldier as a third appeared and picked up his cage. He narrowed his eyes and shot the hand right off, making the Pekoponjin scream and drop it, along with his hand. Gyororo smiled grimly at the hand that fell to the ground next to his cage.

"Unh!"

He faltered and spun around, seeing Nuii doubled over the fist holding the knife into his stomach, material twitching on his shoulders. "_Nuii!_" He turned stunned, furious eyes on the assassin holding his partner, letting his eyes dim immediately, holding his hands out, breath catching in his throat. "I won't," he said, trying to slow his racing heart, a little sweat beading on the back of his head; Kagege's room was hot... "I won't... alright?"

The killer said nothing, just tugged the knife out of Nuii's stomach, making him whine loudly before lapsing into short-of-breath pants.

Gyororo glared at the one who stepped up to grab his cage, not even feeling a small bit of smugness when they cast him an uneasy glance before picking up the cage and starting down the dark hall. He turned and grabbed the bars, watching the assassin holding Nuii follow, staring at his partner with despair painted across his hidden features, knowing Nuii would be the only one to understand the looks.

_I'm sorry,_ he thought, knowing his emotions betrayed the guilty look, staring at Nuii in dismay.

_It's alright... _Nuii stared right back, smiling weakly, before he shut his eyes, lowering his head. Gyororo felt a pang.

"Nuii!"

Silence.

"_Nuii!"_

Nothing.

Gyororo hit the bar, staring at his limp partner. "You need to let my fix him!" he shouted, the assassin giving him a dismissive look. "I... I have to..." Gyororo was trembling in anger, unable to hide his hate. He spun away, falling onto his knees when the one carrying his cage bumped it on the doorway, and covered his ears, shutting his eyes tightly. He had to think... think deeply...

_You can do it, Gyororo... Please?_

"Stupid chess game," he whispered to himself, shutting all his eyes tightly, the tilting surroundings making him dizzy. The whole situation was catching up to him; the mansion being invaded, Mekeke and Putata and Yukiki and probably Robobo, and who knew what had happened to Kagege and Giruru and Dokuku?

"_Doku, doku._" He looked up, startled, and saw the ghost floating next to his cage silently; he went unnoticed, his anti-barrier on. Nobody had understood why Shurara wanted Dokuku to have an anti-barrier, since he could just make himself invisible, but he had been adamant.

_Good for me,_ Gyororo thought, and said softly, "Dokuku, what's the situation?..." Realizing he couldn't understand, he started to list off names; "Nuii, Yukiki, Robobo, Mekeke, Putata and me. I know that; what about Kagege?" Dokuku shook his head, shrugging. "Giruru?" Same thing. "...Shurara?"

Dokuku tilted his head, hesitated, then nodded towards the way they were headed. Gyororo looked forward, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, and suddenly heard a loud dispute. He looked to ask Dokuku what was going on before he noticed that the ghost was gone.

_Guess I'll find out on my own,_ Gyororo thought, shifting his position so he was sitting back on his tail, feet together, fists clenched between his legs.

The bright light of the room blinded him and he squinted his eyes against it, shutting his eyes all the way and letting it adjust until opening his eyes slowly, taking in the scene slowly.

* * *

Not much to say.

Hope you enjoyed. :3


	13. Flashbacks, Nightmares and Demons

WARNING.

LOVELY

LOVELY

GORE

~

* * *

Shurara stared at the scene, feeling just a nibble of his fight slide out of him when a new group walked in.

The scientist that had just left, Dr. Hallorann he had introduced himself as, had just re-entered the room, flanked by a guard and a soldier, and behind him, an assassin holding a limp Nuii in its grasp, three wounds leaking stuffing placed on his shoulder, stomach and chest. Shurara betrayed no emotion, his helmet helping, but seeing Gyororo in a small cage, sitting like that, looking dazzled by the light and trying to blink it away made his chest tighten with rage at these Pekoponjin, who demanded his "cooperation".

The room was large but empty, a dark square with bright lights. Directly in front of him was three doors; one from the front hall, another a set of stairs leading upstairs to his room, and the third a direct connection to Kagege's chamber, each one lined along the wall at ten foot intervals, the two on the ends ten feet from the walls.

Near the far right door (his left, since he was facing them), stood several soldiers and a scientist, standing to represent that small group. Mekeke and Putata were being held there, the latter having been shed of his paintbrush and the first of his threads and marionette. Mekeke was struggling to free himself, and everytime he got close, a soldier would put a good punch into the relaxed, stoned-looking Putata, who had a small dazed smile on his face. Mekeke would stop until they started speaking again, lashing out with insults every few minutes.

Directly in front of him, just next to the door leading to the front hall, was another small group that a younger female scientist represented in place of the absent Dr. Hallorann, her name being Dr. Estell. She had two soldiers behind her, and Robobo was laying slumped against the wall, static flying from his torn body, the two soldiers flanking him as guards.

Now, stepping out of the other door, the Dr. Hallorann returned with the still-unconscious Yukiki, a newly-acquired fainted Nuii, and a dazed, confused-looking Gyororo.

Shurara remained silent, glaring at them evenly, lancet pointed at his side, shield also aimed down.

"We don't ask for so much," Dr. Hallorann said, dropping the limp Yukiki next to Robobo, where he slumped against the robot, unable to retaliate. It sent a pang through Shurara, but apparently he wasn't alone; Mekeke promptly came to Yukiki's defense.

"Don't treat him like a doll!" he snapped, jerking on his wrists again uselessly, the Pekoponjin behind him holding them tightly, keeping him suspended in the air, similar with Putata, just out of his reach. Not that he could reach out and touch him anyways.

"Just because you knocked him out doesn't mean he can't feel anything!" he went on, glaring hatefully at Dr. Hallorann. The bastard had been acting like Yukiki were a normal snowman, not a conscious being. It was pissing Mekeke off.

Shurara just glared, remaining silent. He hadn't spoken once through all of this, and he wasn't about to start.

"Come on," Dr. Hallorann said, stepping forward and retaking his position from Dr. Estell, who gave it up easily. "All we want is cooperation. We're apprehending your other three right now; any rebellion you try will be smitten. Why don't you just come with us, before we resort to... temptation?" The smile he sported then was one to rival a crocodile's, and it sent a flash of hate through Shurara; he showed nothing, remaining still and patient.

Silence reigned for a long seven minutes, the three unconscious beings having no choice in such a matter, Mekeke having finally been quieted now that the assassin had returned, even though he seemed preoccupied with holding Nuii and silencing Gyororo; the doctors were waiting patiently, a little smile on Dr. Hallorann's lips, a similar one on the face of the scientist standing with Mekeke and Putata.

"You prompt my words and yet you give me no reason to speak," he said quietly, speaking carefully while never letting himself move. His voice could have come from everyone, the only thing pointing to him being the speaker being; it was his voice.

"What do you want me to say?" the scientist said, holding his hands up in a mock-helpless gesture. "How about we start with this; I've told you my name, as Dr. Estell has given hers. Why don't you introduce yourself?"

Shurara straightened, glaring at them with nothing but disgust and hate. "I am Shurara, leader of the Shurara Corps, also known as the Zealous Killers, of Keron in the 58th quadrant."

Dr. Hallorann smiled slowly, nodding slowly. "It's a... pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sh–"

"Do not speak my name," Shurara cut him off, pointing the tip of his lancet at the doctor's chest. Several soldiers shifted uncomfortably, and the assassin's foot slid to the left, just slightly. Neither Shurara nor Dr. Hallorann moved.

"You are nothing but a lowly worm under a rock, you insignificant Pekoponjin. You have invaded my home, captured my subordinates, my responsibilities, you say you will _apprehend _my two right-hand men... and they you speak so blatantly as to say you have already won!" Shurara narrowed his eyes. "You have not won. You will _not_ win. Until it is that I surrender completely to you, you will never win. My soldiers have wills of steel, and never will they abandon me, disobey me, or be defiant of me. You will never win, Pekoponjin."

There was a silence in which Putata looked up, still looking stoned, but smiled in vague respect of his leader. Even past the hazy mist that was produced by the shot they had given him, he knew that he could never leave the Corps; they were a part of him, just as much as he was of them. Leaving Shurara was unthinkable; Shurara was the incarnation of a perfect leader, in every aspect... any other attempt at a captain shrunk in size of Shurara's will and strength.

Mekeke had even silenced his struggle, looking up to Shurara; he couldn't see his leaders eyes past the glowing orbs that took their place, but he knew well enough to no longer fight; he had been with the Corps long enough to know when Shurara wanted something of him, and he had been with them just long enough to read what that was without words being spoken. And disobedience wasn't an option... He felt no fear for Shurara; only an almost grudging respect for his strength and level-head.

Gyororo was still sitting, feet together, hands between legs on the base of the cage as a support, hunched over to avoid hitting the cage, but now he was watching Shurara. He could feel the silence over all the Corps members; they all knew what to do. They had better...

A shadow behind Shurara slipped apart from its corner and shifted up onto its own 3D plain, a purple glowing circle-and-cross on the head of it giving it away, if the shape of the torn hat-flaps and arms had not.

Kagege jumped out of it, landing next to his leader. Shurara didn't move, didn't acknowledge Kagege's presence, aside from smirking under his helmet.

The doctors' had lost their smiles, staring at Kagege with a mix of resentment and uncertainty.

"You were saying... Hallorann?"

Dr. Hallorann turned and glared at Shurara before smiling slowly. Shurara didn't lose his own; the Pekoponjin was bluffing.

"One, two, out of ten?"

"Doku."

"Three," Kagege corrected, holding up his hand with a finger pointing up. Dokuku appeared above him, scythe and hand at side, watching the Pekoponjins carefully.

"And Giruru, of course," Shurara said almost casually, his smile fading as a third group walked in.

They carried a considerable-sized tube, stopping at the chest of one of the ones carrying it (which happened to be two), sealed tightly off from them. The battering demon inside was obviously infuriated at being caught, slamming his entire body in wave after wave against the glass restricting his movements before finally falling back, exhausted, trembling with the fatigue at fighting the useless battle all the way across the mansion.

His single eye looked up and he looked startled to see everyone else, now staring at him, before he turned away, humiliation burning inside of him, shame making his face a bit red.

"Giruru," Shurara said carefully and he looked up, his eye easily explaining the situation; they'd caught him off guard... he'd probably been too cocky.....

"I'm sorry Shurara," Giruru said, looking away again. Practically second in command, and reduced to a hostage like his subordinates, the ones he was supposed to be a role model to... it was humiliating.

"Kagege."

The shadow-user stepped forward and abruptly, several dozen red dots were trained on his body. He glanced down, smirking, and looked up at them. "This will be fun."

"I don't plan on playing any games with you," Dr. Hallorann said grimly and pulled his own gun out, walking to the assassin and the one with him and pointing the gun at the cage that held Gyororo.

He jumped and scrambled to the back of the cage, startled, and stared at the gun barrel for a long minute before glaring at it, grinning grimly.

"I'll back it up."

"Then your little partner bites the dust. Permanently."

They all winced, the conscious ones on the Corps. They all knew about Gyororo's weakness for Nuii; they all knew he actually did care, if only about his partner.

Convenient thing was the doctor didn't.

Gyororo glanced at him, huffing. "He's a doll; he's weak. Shurara would find me a stronger partner as soon as I blew you up."

"Oh?" was all Dr. Hallorann said, grinning slowly. He waved the gun to the assassin, who walked forward and dropped Nuii onto the ground, letting him fall onto his side. The Pekoponjin crouched behind him and Gyororo scrambled to the front of his cage, grabbing the bars there and kneeling over, pressing his face against the bars and staring, his heart racing secretly.

The assassin produced a length of chain, trapping Nuii's arms behind him and his legs bent below him, restricting any movements. Everyone was silent.

With a flick of his wrist, a knife appeared in the assassin's hand before leaning over Nuii, touching the tip of the blade to the wound in his chest before waiting for any more orders.

The room was stone silent.

"Does this waver you at all, _Shurara_?" Dr. Hallorann questioned, and Shurara met him with an even glare.

"You won't get that knife through a single thread before Kagege has your head rolling," Shurara said, not seeing a choice as to give the Pekoponjin assassin a chance at life, but doing so anyways. Just to prove–

the sound of tearing material was nearly deafening in the room, all of them startled and not bothering to hide it. Nuii's arm was torn right open, from shoulder to wrist, and he was jerked from unconsciousness by pain, the agony and confusion making him silent for a long, choking moment.

"_Nuii!_"

Gyororo's cry broke the silence, despair etched into the boys voice. The doctor grinned even as Nuii's own cry broke the following silence, confusion and agony lacing his voice. There was a loud growl before shadows lashed out behind every Pekoponjin, wrapping around them like giant snakes and pinning their limbs to their sides. The gun dropped from Dr. Hallorann's grip, the clipboard from Dr. Estell's, and the knife from the assassin's. Shurara didn't hesitate, floating towards Dr. Hallorann, gripping his lancet tightly, murder on his mind.

"Wouldn't it be so convenient if it were that easy?" Dr. Hallorann said, grinning. Shurara didn't pause, stopping only when he was right in front of Dr. Hallorann, lancet poised to snare his rotten heart out of his chest. "Do it. Don't you think there will be consequences?" Shurara paused, turning his glare up to Dr. Halloran's and narrowing his eyes, waiting for the Pekoponjin to speak.

"The soldiers outside have live medical feeds of everyone in this room. Once my heart stops beating, the explosives attached to the robot go off. At the same time, the tank holding your liquid-like friend will release a toxin that has an... explosive reaction with liquids. And finally, the mansion will be set aflame and snipers will take out anyone, invisible or otherwise, out. We aren't totally helpless, _Shurara_. We have the technology to see through your barriers."

Everyone was tense, the atmosphere ice-cold as they waited for Shurara's reaction. It wasn't what they expected.

"Kagege."

"Sir..."

The shadows retreated slowly from the Pekoponjin, the shadow-user visibly grimacing.

"Mekeke, Putata, Yukiki, Robobo, Gyororo, Nuii, and Giruru. What do you suppose we do, Kagege, with the seven of them being held hostage...?"

"I have a fine idea, sir," Kagege said, finally picking up on his leaders thinking. He smirked.

"How many of us do you suppose there are, Hallorann?" Shurara asked, floating back from the freed Pekoponjin until he retook his spot near Kagege.

"Nine, in this room. Ten, in total, our source said." Everyone perked up; source. So somehow, they'd been rat out...

"Actually, I've been curious. Our infantry has looked through the entire mansion, and no tenth member. What's become of him?"

"He's here," Shurara said. Dr. Hallorann gave him a look, arching his eyebrow.

"Doku!"

The ghost appeared right in front of one of the soldiers, making him scream in surprise and fall onto his rump. Everyone spun towards the startled form, guns lifted.

"Go!"

Shurara's order brought everyone to life.

Mekeke whirled around, hidden threads wrapping around his captors throat before giving a hard jerk, severing the head clean off, dropping to the ground and jumping out of the way of the falling corpse. He spun towards his partner, severing the arms of the one holding him, sending him into a screaming fit of agony. His partner fell to the ground, staggering before Mekeke caught his arms, leading him quickly towards Shurara and Kagege, knowing the drug they had injected into him was still in action.

Synchronized, Yukiki and Robobo lept to their feet, the latter wobbling a bit but managing to lash out with a magnetic arm, practically absorbing all the guns and metal objects in the area, dropping them before Yukiki froze them with a harsh snow.

"When did they wake up!?"

"I don't know!"

Yukiki grinned at the Pekoponjins confusion, spinning around and jumping up, summoning a blizzard and freezing a majority of the ones guarding him and his partner. He caught Robobo's wrist and ran past the ice statues, stopping only when he was behind Shurara.

Gyororo growled and shot at the cage bars savagely, ripping them from their foundations, before lunging through it, a battle cry tearing his throat before he landed on the assassins back, digging his claws into his neck and spinning around, red eyes glaring hatefully into the startled Pekoponjin's before he lunged again, sinking his fangs into the Pekoponjin's throat and tearing it right out, blood splashing onto his face in a gory river before he dropped it, jumping off the body and landing next to his gasping, nearly crying partner, grabbing him around the waist and standing up, pulling Nuii to his feet and hugging him close, pushing the seams together in a useless attempt to mend it, knowing he would need more than just a little thread this time.

He pulled his partner close, running back to Shurara before laying him down, hearing his partners weak little whimpers now.

"Here."

He looked up and saw Mekeke handing him a thread, looking a bit fretfully at Nuii. "I need a needle," Gyororo said, his voice none to steady.

"Wa– tase." Robobo was sitting a few feet away, only one arm mobile, but he managed to open his chest plate, holding out a small metallic piece of his body that looked like it could substitute as a needle quite well.

"Thank you," Gyororo said, his voice thick, and took it, also accepting the thread Mekeke offered, and starting to work sewing the giant tear shut.

Dr. Hallorann rose, looking around and seeing a majority of his group dead. He turned and smiled grimly at Shurara. "A considerable attempt," he said, clapping a bit before frowning. "But your rebellion will only postpone your capture."

"Give it up, Pekoponjin," Shurara growled, aiming his lancet at the mans chest once more. The man grinned, and suddenly, Shurara's heart was racing. He felt short of breath, his lancet wavering before his eyes before his vision blurred a bit. "Peko... ponjin..."

"You failed us Captain," a soft voice said behind him and he whirled around, furious at the voice and confused that any of his subordinates would even dare to say it.

He saw Mekeke was the one to speak, but knew immediately he must be dreaming or something; his subordinate was on all fours, fur sprouted from his body, his one visible eye slitted, predatory, and crying blood, staring at him blankly. "You failed us all."

"M-Mekeke." He couldn't stop himself from reacting to the painful sight, his hand holding the lancet wavering.

"Failed us..."

He whirled around, seeing Gyororo and Nuii, far different than they'd been not seconds before. The first was sitting against the wall, shivering, hugging Nuii's obviously dead form to his body. His eyes were empty, staring blankly at the ground, his tail limp on Nuii's lap.

"Failed..."

He spun around, nearly panicking now, and saw their surroundings had completely shifted. Snow was falling lazily from the sky, making floaty plumes around their bodies. His breath made a small cloud in front of his mouth, his eyes wide with his obvious horror at the scenes he was being subjected to.

Kagege was laying in the snow now, on his back, his body torn by a ruthless onslaught of some sort of clawed monster, his chest torn open as well as his throat and limbs, blood pooling the snow around him and staining it an unnaturally bright red, making Shurara start to tremble.

He saw that the blood hadn't spread totally, the pool having six terrifying letters that were untouched, still the snowy white; _Failed._

"No!" Shurara shouted, and looked down suddenly, the wind gusting past him and making him shiver violently. His armor was gone. _"No!!_"

"Failed," a shaking voice whispered. He spun around and saw Putata, limp in the snow, a Space Cerberus over him, his subordinate thrashing and screaming in fear before a snap of his neck made him limp forever.

"_NO!"_ Shurara screamed, panic and terror making his heart race. He spun around, shaking badly, unable to stop his heart from racing. And then...

Shurara was trembling as darkness slammed down like a wall, the snow vanishing all around in at the exact same instant. He froze, like the ice had suddenly vanished all around and taken refuge inside of him, before something broke his paralysis. The one thing that could make him move.

The snarl made him whirl around, terror tightening his chest, his eyes wide and suddenly wet. He could feel little dashes of blood on his arms and legs from the body that bad practically exploded over him, staining him with splashes of blood. He started breathing fast, his breath making a little whistle deep in his throat. "No," he whispered, unable to hide his terror. "No... this c-can't be happening."

He saw the creature's outline as it padded softly towards him from the shadows, making him start to shake violently. Its muzzle was stained red, his eyes hungry and predatory, its claws clicking on the silent floor.

Shurara took a step back, unable to control himself. It was all happening again, everything in perfect definition; the blood on the monster, the small mark that had left hardly an impact when the monster had attacked...

Shurara felt teas streaming down his cheeks, his breath coming in fast, painful gasps. _This can't be happening again... it's __**OVER!!**_

The monster lunged.

Shurara screamed, sharp and loud, sitting bolt-upright in the bed he was in, his heart beating hard, his breath coming in harsh, panicked pants, the sheets soaked with sweat and the pillow, tears. He looked around frantically, unable to hide the panic and terror that still had his chest tight like a wind-up doll, the tears still streaming down his cheeks.

"Shurara?"

He screamed again and whirled around, hitting his head hard against the wall and yelping, knocking himself over and plopping onto his front on the bed, barely seeing the Pekoponjin's worried face before he hid his own in the bed, the sudden recollection, along with so much stored stress from the years, and now all this crap, proving too much for his nerves.

There was a little bit of shuffling before he felt the bed shift. He didn't move, letting the tears run down his cheeks, burying his face deeper into the bed.

"Shurara... That's your name, isn't it?"

"What does it matter?" he growled hoarsely, feeling weak. His limbs were heavy, and his heart was beating hard, a dull headache in the recesses of his head, his stomach growling in protest from neglect. He grimaced and told it to shut up.

"My name is Dr. Estell. Do you remember me?"

"Go away," he growled.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"I don't care. Go away."

"I'm–"

"I don't _care_. LEAVE."

She frowned down at him. "You aren't in a place to be giving orders... although, I hate using that phrase."

"Leave," he said simply again, losing emphasis. He was too tired.

"I'm not a bad person, Shurara," she said, and he felt his weight lift off the bed. "You should clean yourself up. I'm sure that isn't the appearance you show your friends, right?"

"They won't see me," Shurara mumbled into the sheets. "Just those damned scientists..."

"It sounds like you're giving up," she said, sounding disapproving from the doorway. "Please try and clean up, Shurara. Don't lose hope; you'll get out of here."

He sat up now, staring at her back as the door shut. He stared for a long time before sitting up, leaning back on the wall that the head of his bed was against, grabbing a pillow that was leaning on the other wall and wiping his eyes and cheeks, clearing it. He couldn't even remember what the nightmare had been, now that he thought of it.

_Not a nightmare._

_A memory._

He waved the thought off, regretting already having shown such weakness for a Pekoponjin. But her words...

"Of course we'll escape," he said allowed, angrily. Did she doubt them, taunt them? Or... maybe she was offering assistance...

_We take no pity from Pekoponjins,_ he thought harshly, growling to himself. Although...

There was the softest of knocks at the door and he turned to glare, feeling more like himself. He could see the room was a simple white square with his own bed on it and the sheets and two pillows, although that was all.

He didn't reply, only turning his back to the door and facing the corner, crossing his arms.

He heard the creak of the door opening anyways, and a very tentative voice; "Shurara...?"

He jumped to his feet, spinning around and staring at the doorway.

He could easily tell it was Kagege; the cross-eye stood right above bandages that made him look more like his title, an assassin, though the ones covering his hands, hat flaps and feet were a mystery to him. His scarf remained, wrapped tightly around his neck, and his skin was the same colour, if a bit pale...

Shurara dropped onto the ground as Kagege stepped in, shutting the door behind him, looking shaken and disbelieving.

"They took your armor," Kagege muttered, looking dazed, and suddenly fell over. Shurara rushed over and barely caught him in time, staring at Kagege with shock, just the fact he was _here_ was making Shurara's heart race, but now something was wrong with him. He pulled Kagege's arm over his shoulder, reminding himself to be strong, and carrying his limp subordinate to the bed, laying him down gently and grabbing the pillows, propping him up a bit before kneeling next to him, looking him over. He reached out for the bandages near his head before Kagege cringed away and reached up a bandaged hand, stopping him.

"Don't..."

"What did they do to you, Kagege?" Shurara demanded softly, looking a bit shaken.

"Hurts," he muttered, shaking a bit, and Shurara leaned over him a bit, touching his forehead; he was burning up.

"Shit... Kagege..."

"H... help," he mumbled, and Shurara saw something he'd never expected he'd see, and it kind of scared him; a tear slipped down Kagege's cheek. Shurara stood up, leaving Kagege on the bed and going to the door, slamming a fist on it hatefully, trembling a bit.

"Open the door," he snarled, and he heard a soft chuckle from the other side before a cold, female voice replied;

"Where would be the fun in that, 900? Maybe you'll reconsider some of our questions..."

"Bitch! Who are you!?"

"Call me Dr. Destria," she replied, chuckling again. "I'm the one purchasing your friend there. Their price was high, but I got a little bit of a break if I could get a single coordinate from you..."

"You won't get anything from me!" Shurara shouted, slamming his fist on it again, still shaken. What could he do?...

"Ahh..."

He turned, staring at Kagege again. His subordinate had gripped the sheets tightly and was writhing around, his face flushed a deep, feverish red, sweat trickling down his forehead. Shurara bit his finger hard, sinking his fangs in and trying to bite back his despair. It didn't work; Kagege started whimpering pathetically, and he started wondering what the fuck they'd done to him.

"GAH!!"

Shurara winced as Kagege grabbed his stomach tightly, jerking his hand away a second later, letting it fall limply on the bed, moaning in pain, his chest jumping in an irregular rhythm.

He ran back to the bed, kneeling next to his subordinate, watching him twitch around helplessly, pain ravaging his body, gasping and whimpering pitifully.

"Kagege..."

"_Please_," Kagege moaned, his eye screwed tightly shut in pain. "Oh... Keron.... p-please.... n-no _more_..."

Shurara watched him with etched despair and his own pain, clenching his shaking fists.

"Coordinates."

The one word on the other side of the door made him squint his eyes, watching Kagege writhed in agony. So simple... would they end it, if he didn't? Could this thing kill Kagege? Oh Keron, what do I do...

"I908-V560," Shurara shouted before he could reconsider, cursing himself even as the door opened.

A Pekoponjin approximately five foot six inches walked in, her honey blonde hair reaching as far as her lower back, dark green eyes promising nothing but what she decided. Her lab coat was borrowed, obviously, since it was a size too big, but her shirt underneath, a dark blue colour, was navy, her jeans a similar blue.

"Move aside, 900," she said, smirking down at him. He glared at her, not moving. She stopped in front of him, and he saw she was stubborn enough to wait. He was, too.

Kagege's scream made him wince badly and he stumbled to the side, unable to take the pain in his voice. Oh Keron, how could this be happening?

She walked over to the writhing, jerking Keronjin, practically bathed in sweat, moaning and whimpering wretchedly. She slipped a needle out, the liquids inside putting Shurara on the defensive, running to the bedside and leaning over, watching her suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" he growled, glaring at her smug little grin.

"Curing the Prilate I put inside of him," she said, and spared Shurara a smirk. "Why? Don't you trust me?" He just growled again, bristling furiously, though not moving as she slipped the needle into Kagege's arm, injecting the fluid almost gracefully before slipping it out and dabbing the small wound.

"I told you that it's a matter of persuasion," she said aloud and Shurara tensed, spinning around a second too late.

He'd been too distracted by the woman and Kagege to notice his handlers sneak up behind him. Now they jerked him into the air and he bared his fangs, digging them into the flesh of the arm, getting a loud grunt of surprise and discomfort before he was wrenched off that one. He lashed out with a leg, kicking furiously until the bandana gag that had gotten him here was shoved into his mouth again, though not half as deep. He started mumbling violently, wishing to disarm them and gouge their black hearts out. He would kill these people if it was the last thing he did, he promised himself now.

"Stop fighting," said as she stood up, Kagege draped limply over her right shoulder. "Lucas!"

A Pekoponjin hurried in, wearing as well a lab coat that was a size too big, if not two, and went to the female doctor who had apparently purchased Kagege, taking the Keronjin from his mentor and slipping a pair of shackles around his wrists, locking them before activating the electrodes attached.

Shurara snarled at them weakly behind the gag, thrashing violently until a hard punch to his stomach made him exhale sharply, stunned, giving his handlers enough time to bind his wrists behind his back and his ankles together, bending his legs and putting a chain from his shins to his thighs, keeping his legs bent. _Bastards,_ he thought, glaring at them helplessly. Dr. Destria spared him a smug glance before turning away briskly. "Lucas, we're going. It was a pleasure, gentlemen."

"We have one other going up, Dr. Destria," one of his handlers said, holding him tightly while the Lucas boy hurried out with the limp Kagege, making Shurara thrash and snarl again.

"I might come and do more business with you then," she said, sounding amused, and stepped out, her heels making claw-like taps on the ground that made Shurara shiver, for a reason he didn't realize.

Slowly going lax in his handler's grip, he glowered hatefully out the door, losing sight of his subordinate sooner than he liked. It took another five minutes of silence before Shurara shifted uncomfortably, his stomach growling with a soft menace. He winced faintly, though quickly took it back; he didn't show weakness in front of these handlers.

"We'll send Dr. Tyrel to feed you," one of the handlers said with a trace of annoyance, starting down the hall. Shurara didn't try to reply. He bristled angrily, silently, not bothering to try and struggle. He heard soft, uneven steps and tilted his head a bit. A low gasp verified his suspicions; one of his Corps. A low growl built up in the back of his throat, proof he was not yet broken, turning his head down to try and see if he could find out who it was. It wasn't hard.

"Sh-Shurara!"

_Mekeke!_ He couldn't speak aloud. Instead, he struggled harder, clenching his fangs around the gag.

"What did I say?" a voice hissed and he heard some sort of contact, followed by a yelp from his subordinate and a sliding noise. He stiffened and startled growling louder, dangerous, his heart racing with rage. They _dare_ touch one of his subordinates while he was near...

"Move," the same voice growled slowly, and to his distress, he heard a weak whimper from the puppeteer's throat as he scrambled in the direction Shurara had just come from. It was hardly any contact... but he knew that Mekeke was alive.

The fact that Mekeke had dared speak his name when he'd obviously been told not to also reassured him that Putata was alive; the puppeteer would have shattered without his partner.

He needed... to free them. This was getting more and more persistent in his mind. He felt the more they waited, the harder it would be...

_We've already lost Giruru... and they've _sold_ Kagege... those... bastards._ He couldn't wait any longer. He had to–

Shackles clasped around his right wrist and he knew they were in his designated prison. They turned his body and stretched his other arm until he grimaced, clasping the other shackle over his free wrist. The gag was removed and he worked his jaw gratefully, glaring at the darkness, glancing around blindly.

"Leg."

He was silent. A hand grabbed his ankle, roughly, and jerked it down. He bit his tongue hard, knowing full well the shackles weren't that far. Indeed, the pressure let up a bit when the handler got over his irritation, the latch clasping shut on his ankle. Soon, both feet were locked up, his wrists as well. He heard the sound and braced himself as the chains pulled away from one another, stretching his arms above his head and his legs below him until he was forced to give a weak, pained groan, his limbs nearly popping out of their sockets. The chains stopped, leaving him in the star formation. The blind fold came off and, immediately, a collar snapped shut around his neck.

"Mire," he hissed at the handler, who glared, flexing a fist. Shurara braced himself for a punch, got nothing, and tried to relax a bit. The handlers left, talking softly, and he turned his head one way, then the other, finding it with no more slack than usual; near-none. A weary sigh escaped him as he shut his eyes, ready for the only thing he had to look forward to aside from escape;sleep.

"Do... ku."

And a visit from Dokuku.

_Cap... tain?_

He looked up, opening his eyes to see the small ghost floating in front of him curiously, head tilted. He offered a sigh.

"Dokuku... I'd begun to thought you'd given up on me."

"Doku! dokuku doku doku." _ Never! I couldn't leave you..._

It was a talent Shurara had gained from the beginning, to understand Dokuku's words. Only he and Giruru...

"Any news?" he murmured and Dokuku nodded faintly, looking down.

"Dokuku... Doku, doku doku doku. Dokuku doku doku..." _I-I found someone, but please don't ask me how he is. Gyororo... It's too sad captain. Sorry..._

"As long as he's alive," Shurara assured the other soothingly. He found himself comforting Dokuku a lot these days. Having lost Giruru... so horribly... Shurara sighed. "How are Putata and Mekeke...?"

"Doku! Dokuku, doku." _Good, they're still okay._

"Yukiki?" Now Dokuku's features lit up a bit, as much as they could after his brother's departure.

"Dokuku! Doku, doku doku doku, dokukudoku!" _Guess what! That doctor, Dr. Estell, she convinced the others to bring him back._

"Who?" Shurara asked, then stopped. "They– they killed Yukiki!?"

"Doku, doku!" He started waving his hands, exclaiming, _No, no!!_ "Doku, dokuku doku doku!!" _Robobo, she's rebuilding Robobo!_

"Robobo..." Shurara looked immensely relieved, even smiling, faintly. They weren't all going to die...

"...Doku... doku," _She's good... for a Pekoponjin._

"Don't think it might not be a trap for trust, Dokuku," Shurara sighed, though he understood why he said that. On numerous occasions, the prestige Dr. Estell had come to see him and cleanse his wounds...

"Doku...?" _Captain...?_

"Yes Dokuku?" he murmured, lifting his head a bit.

"Doku doku doku dokuku?"_When are we escaping...?_

Shurara looked up, eyes half-shut. He was tired, hungry, and angry. But also sad for his subordinates. Sad...

"Soon, Dokuku," he sighed and, after a pause; "please go comfort Gyororo."

"Doku... Dokuku." _He needs it..._

_

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_

I WAS AFRAID TO END IT?

...DX

I hope this suffices to all the time it took my to write :c

From when Shurara gets tied up to the end is what I did, today, with my hand casted up *shot* fifth period XD; and a bit more on the next chapter~

Anyways, warning;

DECAPITATION, WEWT~

Imma hafta put this in rated M for gore now XD

HOPE YOU ENJOYED~


	14. A Snowman and his Robot Pt 2

Wai hello there.

JEEZ, TOOK ME SO LONG...

Alright, I'm not even going to start without saying this;

YOU WILL ALL CLICK ON THESE LINKS IF YOU LIKE THIS FANFIC. This loverly fan has so kindly drawn me many illustrations of this fanfiction, some of which are wishful thinking, others that may or may not happen, and others that have already indeed happened...  
No pictures are perfect, as with the Mekeke & Putata picture, since the room is closed in and not barred, but this is a wonderful collection of art that you are all going to look at.

.

They're just so... amazing. lD Expect more pictures with each Chapter or so that comes up. Thank you~

Hope you enjoy the chapter. It includes 2 parts, since the first was waaaay too small... Also, the second part doesn't have a name. l3

**EDIT.**

The picture links aren't working. DX STUPID . I'll try to upload them to my profile, so PLEASE go check them out. 3

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_A Snowman and his Robot... part 2_

"Yukiki... _Yukiki!_"

His name being chanted, over and over, with worry and rage etched into the familiar voice. _Who is that..._

"Yukiki, watase, wake up!_"_

"Robobo?"

His voice sounded sluggish and drugged, which he supposed he had been. He could remember the damned Pekoponjin's last words to him, too. _I'm glad to have a bit of your trust._ Damned bitch...

"Yu-ki-_ki_!" his partner shouted, and he heard a good series of rattling before a loud _thump_. His head hurt, and he felt heavy, be he forced his arms under his body. He pushed himself up onto shaking arms, blinking a few times and staring down at the ground and his gloves. A thick metal clasp was shut around one wrist and he gave himself a hard push, falling back onto his rump and staring at it stupidly before looking up at the room around him.

It was an empty room, aside from himself and...

And...

"Robobo!"

He jumped onto his feet, swayed, and fell back against the wall, sliding back down, dazed.

"Yukiki!" His partner stood up again and started jerking on the chains around his neck again, staring at his snowman partner. Yukiki quickly looked up and saw a black one-way glass window high above them, where presumably they were being monitored.

"Untie me!" he shouted, shaking his wrist to rattle some emphasis. A loud beep filled the room before a voice;

"make due."

"Bastards," Yukiki growled, though his partner's sight made him deeply appreciate Dr. Estell in that moment, despite her traitorous attempt at drugging him. _Attempt? She got you good._ He shook the thought away and stood up again, carefully.

"Yukiki," Robobo said, looking worried, "is Yukiki okay?"

"I'm fine Robobo," Yukiki said, trying to soothe the other. He didn't want his partner to go on a rampage... though he doubted the Pekoponjins, though stupid, would give him his weapons back. "It's okay..."

Still uncertain, the robot stood and took several steps towards the other until his chain forced him to stop. He reached out with one magnetic hand, looking at Yukiki helplessly. The snowman forced himself to stand without leaning on the wall, wavering a bit before taking a few steps. He finally reached the end of his chain and reached out, not even touching tips.

"Robobo..."

"Watase," Robobo said sullenly, reaching more. Yukiki wanted to tell him to stop making a fool of himself, though realized that the robot looked a bit scared. He'd been dismembered after they had tormented Yukiki in front of him. He was probably worried about what they'd done to him while he was gone.

Other that, Yukiki wasn't the... jerk he'd been before. He realized how young Robobo really was, and having lost him... like that, watching...

He wanted to feel the other's touch, make sure it was real.

He swallowed thickly and reached more before grazing his hand against the other's magnet. A flicker of relief passed through Robobo's eyes.

"Robobo... Are you okay?"

"Fine watase... Yukiki?"

"I'm fine Robobo," he sighed and suddenly felt overwhelmed with exhaustion, sinking to his knees.

"Watase!Yukiki!" Robobo knelt, looking at him worriedly. Yukiki smiled tiredly.

"I said I'm fine, Robobo. Just tired."

"Watase..."

"Now stop your blubbering. I'm tired..."

A door opened and he glanced up sleepily, a bit annoyed, though his gaze hardened when it rested on Dr. Estell.

"You–"

"Watase. Hello Dr. Estell." Yukiki jumped, staring at his partner.

"Robobo, she's the enemy!"

The robot looked at him, confused. "But she helped Robobo and Yukiki, watase..."

"Robobo..."

"I'm sorry for drugging you Yukiki," she said, kneeling next to him and holding a hand towards his. He glared. "They wouldn't let me transport you any other way. I'm sorry, okay? Let me have your hand."

"I don't want to leave yet," he said, sounding pained. "Robobo is–"

"You aren't leaving," Dr. Estell said, and Yukiki broke off.

"...then...?"

"I'm taking off your shackle," she said. "I convinced them that you can't do anything without them know. And you won't, if you want Robobo to stay."

Yukiki didn't like that, if she had said it menacingly, she would have been threatening him. But he couldn't deny that she only sounded sincere. After a hesitation, he sighed and gave up his wrist, holding it up for her to unlatch. He took it back and rubbed his wrist before hurriedly scooching over a bit and grabbing Robobo's magnet hand, exhaling shakily.

"Watase... Robobo missed Yukiki."

He would have blushed a bit, but glared at the ground on his other side instead, tightening his grip on Robobo's hand.

"Just... pipe down. I'm tired."

"Watase... okay Yukiki."

He sighed and shut his eyes, lowering his head a bit. Just having Robobo back made him feel a bit more hopeful. Maybe it wasn't as hopeless as they'd thought...

Well, he'd thought, but still...

He slid down a bit and leaned his shoulder against Robobo's arm, sighing. He didn't feel her leave, or hear her, but he knew Dr. Estell was gone. _Good._

"...Yukiki...?"

He frowned a bit, sighing. "What?"

There was a silence before, almost hesitantly, Robobo asked, "did Yukiki miss... Robobo?"

He didn't have to think about the answer; yes, he had. But could he tell that to Robobo?

Of course he could. But he couldn't let those scum Pekoponjin know.

After all, he had a reputation.

"Why would I miss a hunk of metal," he muttered, leaning back against the other, tightening his grip on the magnet hand one last time before shutting his eyes. Robobo stared down at him a bit, feeling admiration and passion for his partner. He had to make sure Yukiki was happy.

And hearing Yukiki say those words, with obvious affection in them...

It made Robobo happpy.

Gyororo breathed in shallowly, his head throbbing with the medication they'd given him. There was one voice, a soothing one that could get him to take the medication, but not even she could get them to give him a needle. They were tempted to restrain him, in order to give it, but they new even strapped down his struggling would break the needle inside of him.

Their last resort cast one person into a panic, but gave once deep reassurances, another one a deep, painful flare of hope and gratitude.

"Gyororo?"

He jerked up and cringed away from the voice, hugging his legs tighter to his chest. It hurt the eye on his stomach, but he didn't want anywhere near that voice. That familiar, friendly voice...

"K-Keron... Gyororo... It's me. Putata."

The name made his heart kick up, and his defenses crumpled. He started crying weakly, tears streaming down his cheeks from his empty eye sockets. He heard hurried steps towards him before vaguely familiar hands, ones that weren't the size of his body, gripped his arms, and he felt eyes scour his body. He felt a pang of envy at those eyes, but it was lost in his relief. He reached out blindly until Putata grabbed one of his hands, squeezing it.

"Gyororo... I can't believe this... Are you alright? Say something, please."

"Do I _look_ alright!?" he whispered automatically, his older self still there, built into his skin. Putata smiled in tired relief and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy's body, pulling him close against his chest and hugging him. Gyororo hugged Putata's waist, crying quietly in sheer relief.

"Wh-why... did they let you c-come?" Gyororo murmured, his voice cracking. It still seemed too good...

"They gave me a proposition," Putata replied softly, shifting to lean against the wall and pulling Gyororo against him in a comfortable way. "They said they'd let me see you, if I could give you a shot..."

"Th-the n-needle?" Gyororo whimpered softly, trembling a bit. Putata brushed his arms lightly, giving a soft, reassuring sound.

"Gyororo... I had to say yes. Mekeke was so worried about you... I'm sure Shurara is... Yukiki..."

"H... How is e-everyone?" Gyororo asked hoarsely, swallowing thickly. He hadn't heard about anyone since he got here, aside from Nuii.

"Mekeke and I are fine," Putata soothed. "Shurara... he's being held in another part of these labs. He's okay... they took his helmet, and his shield and lancet, but he's alright." Gyororo bit his lip hard as Putata went on; "Yukiki is alright... But they–... they dismembered Robobo..." Gyororo lowered his head a bit, not moving. Neither of them realized that Robobo was walking down the halls with Yukiki's gloved hand clamped around his magnetic one, towards their once-again shared room.

"Dokuku... they can't capture him. Kagege is... We haven't heard about him, but Dokuku says he's alive." He fell silent after that, watching Gyororo.

He didn't want to talk about it, but murmured hoarsely, "they killed Nuii..."

"Gyororo..."

"Th-they... unw-wound him... th-thread by... thread... Until he was g-g... gone..."

Putata's grip tightened again and he hugged the broken spy against him, soothing him gently. It took them a while before the door opened and Gyororo cringed into Putata, starting to shake all over.

"Shh... Gyororo, shh."

Putata's reassuring words did nothing now. He knew those footsteps...

"Are you going to give it to him?" the Demon asked sharply, and Gyororo froze against Putata, clinging onto him helplessly.

"I will," Putata said softly, holding a hand up towards the scientist. "Give it to me."

"Don't sound so high and mighty," the Demon growled softly. Gyororo felt Putata trembling a bit, but his gaze didn't waver, nor his hand. The soft _clink_ of glass and a bit of movement from Putata made Gyororo sure he had the needle.

He had a sudden premonition, a painful sureness that once the needle was in his arm, the Demon would stamp on it, crushing the glass into his arm, breaking the needle, hurting him so much more...

"N-no," Gyororo whimpered pitifully. Putata gave him a calm look that he didn't see. "N-n... n-not w-with him... h-here..."

"I could punish you for that," the Demon hissed, and Gyororo started sobbing weakly against Putata, shaking.

"Stop that!" Putata shouted, and Gyororo's heart nearly stopped. Putata yelled at the Demon, oh Keron...

"What!?" the Demon snapped sharply, glaring at him with a hatred.

"I won't give him the shot if you keep terrorizing him!" Putata said angrily, bristling. "He's a kid, damn it! Look at what you're doing to him, no wonder he won't let you give him a shot!"

"You're talking pretty fucking sharply for a prisoner," the Demon warned, but Putata only glared deeper.

"Use that against me all you want, it'll never change my mind," he growled, hugging Gyororo closer. "Don't touch him any more..."

"What are you going to do about it?" the Demon demanded. "You're as helpless as he is."

"But I'm not as fun?" Putata snapped. "Why do you torment him so much? Because he's young? Do you get off on it!? What's wrong with you! Are all Pekoponjin so heartless and _cruel_!?"

"You're invaders," the Demon hissed, "and we'll get our information however we need to."

"But you just decided to break him down in the most painful way possible, didn't you?" Putata whispered. "You aren't justified. We're alive... conscious... we feel pain." There was a sudden taunting tone in Putata's voice; "Do you have children, doctor?"

The doctor sounded furious, more than usual; "You–"

"I bet you do," Putata cut him off. "A little boy, maybe a girl? Put them in Gyororo's place... Or maybe you already did. Is that why you're such a bastard? You did it to your own kids and decided that everyone else had to pay for your–"

Putata's body jerked in Gyororo's grasp before he slumped, suddenly breathless.

"Putata," Gyororo whimpered, helpless, and started shaking him a bit, trembling. "St-stop. P-please don't..."

"Too late!" the Demon snarled, crouching and grabbed Putata around his neck. He coughed as he was torn from Gyororo's desperate grasp and jolted with pain when he was slammed up against the wall, his head cracking against the cement painfully.

"Was... it– t-true then?" Putata murmured, grinning painfully. "Hit a... nerve... did I...?"

"You bastard," the Demon snapped and slammed him back against the wall again, making him choke on his breath. "You'll regret anything that comes out of your mouth again."

"M... make me," Putata whispered, his eyes still dazed but dancing. This would be his last chance to ever do anything for Gyororo, if this bastard could help it. He wasn't going to let this man hurt Gyororo again.

The Demon narrowed his eyes and clenched his fist, slamming it into Putata's gut. He exhaled sharply, struggled to inhale, and slumped in the fist that remained in his solar plexus, gasping in uselessly. When it moved, he inhaled sharply and braced himself as it slammed into his chest again. He coughed up blood this time, nearly choking on it, and felt a few tears in his eyes.

He still grinned.

"Stop smiling."

The monotone voice of the Demon didn't phase him. It grew a bit.

Growling, the Demon threw him at the ground, watching him land harshly and cringe, coughing again roughly. Putata curled up a bit and started to wrap his arms around his stomach before the scientist kicked him hard, making him skid back against the room with a low, breathless cry.

"Still grinning?" the scientist whispered menacingly as Putata struggled onto his hands and knees, trembling in pain all over. He took a few labored breaths before a strained grin made its way onto his face. Furious again, the Demon kicked him hard in the gut, making him fall off his hands and knees and fall weakly against the ground again, panting uselessly, starting to feel dizzy.

"Putata!!"

Gyororo's pleas were unheard from his corner, his entire form shaking like a leaf. The scientist rammed his foot into Putata's side, kicking him into the wall where he exhaled sharply and bounced off limply, landing in a weak heap at its base. Walking towards him, the scientist crouched and picked him up by the nape of his neck, standing with him limp in his hands.

"Well?" he hissed softly. Putata struggled to breath, his vision dancing with black dots, and it took more effort than he liked, but he grinned weakly, a pathetic excuse at one but enough for the Demon. He snarled and threw Putata towards the ground, slamming his foot into his gut before he could make it and ramming him against the wall again, pinning him there with his foot.

Putata's airy breathing didn't sound normal, his hands pushing weakly at the foot that kept the air out of his lungs, compressing them agonizingly. They dropped to his side uselessly, tears of pain pooling in his eyes.

"Cry, damn it," the Demon hissed and rammed his foot deeper into Putata's body, a hoarse, silent scream echoing in Putata's mind as he slumped forward, entire body shaking. A tear fell out of his eye, and it seemed enough, as the Demon pulled his foot away. Putata dropped limply onto the ground, his entire body shaking with every painful breath he took in. He had scratches and marks all over him, bruises already starting to show up, and he was crying a bit, very little and silently.

The Demon crouched next to him and lifted his head by his helmet a bit, staring at him silently. "Smile," he whispered menacingly. Putata barely heard him, just barely conscious. He would have, too, if his entire body weren't shaking with exhaustion. "I thought so," he sneered and dropped Putata.

Gyororo felt the stare fall on him and he started shaking even worse, ready to scream on cue if he was demanded of it. He hated himself for it, knew he was weak, and he still couldn't stop himself. He was already broken, horribly finished. He was the weakest link, after all...

The door slammed and he jumped a bit before hugging himself, trembling a bit.

"Putata," he whispered, head turning uselessly. He could hear the harsh breathing of the other and slowly pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling. He hadn't walked in a long while, so he pressed his hands against the wall and made his way towards Putata's sounds, leaning on the wall. He fell onto his knees once he got there, trembling, and reached out with a hand.

Putata forced himself not to fall unconscious, his main worry at the moment being Gyororo. He couldn't scare him any more than he was... And still, he listened to Gyororo begging for him to get up, or say something, and he found he couldn't.

"Putata, please," Gyororo sobbed, trying not to sound so weak and failing. He couldn't lose someone else, not again, not his fault, he really couldn't stand that.

"P... pu... puta... puta...."

The faintly melodic sound made Gyororo's heart race. He let his hands seek out Putata's, finding it and feeling the other squeeze him.

"Are you okay," Gyororo murmured, tears staining his cheeks.

Putata squeezed his hand again before murmuring weakly, "yes..."

"C-can you... get up?..."

There was a few quiet breaks in the breathing before a soft gasp. "N-not... yet."

"Putata... I-I'm sorry..."

"Tch... not.. Your fault," he sighed shakily, holding Gyororo's hand tighter. "I'm just... a glutton f-for... punishment..."

"M-masochist," Gyororo muttered, and he got a weak string of resonance-laughter from Putata.

"I suppose," he panted, and finally pushed himself to his knees, even if his shaking arms almost dropped him again. "N-now... come here," he gasped faintly, leaning against the wall. Gyororo scooched closer to him, leaning against him. It was the first kind of reassurance he'd had since Nuii was gone... It felt great to have someone else there.

"I'm going to... give you the shot, alright?"

"Putata!" Gyororo was shocked that he could still think about that. "B-but... h-he just..."

"That was the deal," Putata murmured, brushing his arm gently. "I might...be able... to come back. But only... if I do this... for them."

Gyororo bit his lip and nodded, head down.

"That's the deal... I made... with Dr. Estell." He had a smile in his voice. "Ch-charming lass..."

"E-Estell..." Gyororo knew the name. "Sh-she... gives me m-my pills."

"I'm not... surprised," Putata said, still sounding breathless as he slipped the needle into Gyororo's arm. He flinched, bit only gripped Putata's hand tighter. "It's alright," Putata murmured, smiling again, and laughed a short string of resonance before he was forced to stop by a harsh group of coughs. Half-panicked, he pulled his hand away from the needle, not wanting to break it in Gyororo's arm.

The younger one felt the change it pressure and grabbed the needle as soon as he felt it tipping. "Putata?"

It took almost a full two minutes for the coughing to stop. By then, he'd already hacked up some blood, and it clashed with the colors already painted on his body. He gave it a weary, tired glance before brushing Gyororo's hand away and pushing the liquid in, pulling it out once more. "Done," he sighed, and Gyororo rubbed his arm with a trembling hand. "Are you okay...?"

"Will I be alone again?" Gyororo whispered, empty eyes cast downwards. Putata stared at him silently for a minute, pained, and shifted so he was sitting right next to him again, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer. The resistance he would have put up before had diminished into a thankful silence as he leaned against Putata, tears streaming down his cheeks again.

"I doubt that's good for you," Putata murmured, wiping his tear away gently. "You'll be fine, Gyororo... Nobody is going to hurt you again. I'll be back."

"H-he won't stop," Gyororo whimpered, shaking his head slowly. "Th-the... the Demon. He's..." His breath caught and Putata hugged him tighter, not bothering to wipe away the tears this time.

"...I promise, you'll be fine." He smiled weakly, rubbing his head. "I never break a promise... you know that."

Gyororo tilted his head up a bit, and at that moment, eyes or not, hollow eye sockets or not, this was the youngest, most vulnerable Putata had ever seen the boy.

"I-I know," he mumbled, butting his head lightly against his shoulder and shutting his eyes. Putata kept an arm wrapped around his shoulder comfortably, holding him close as his trembling slowly tapered off and his breathing became more even.

He bargained another thirty minutes from the Demon in exchange for an additional forty-five in the interrogation room. It was a hard bargain, but it was for Gyororo. He'd also offered most all of his free will, just to stop the Demon from ever touching Gyororo again. It was worth it...

And at that time, it was the best sleep Gyororo had had in weeks.

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Hope you enjoyed 3


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